The Words That Fall From My Lips
by vontramp
Summary: "Girlfriend. Other words might sound better - fiancee, or wife - but girlfriend was good for now." Future Britanna fic, starting their senior year of college, in New York.
1. Ain't No Sunshine

A burst of cold air snuck through the quad, rattling Santana to her bones, as she pulled her jacket tighter around her shivering core. Her sole purpose was to get to her destination, a meeting with her advisor about her senior thesis. She'd thought co-mingling her pre-med major and fine arts minor would be difficult to say the least, but it had nothing on making it across campus in what felt like -4 degree weather.  
>While the cold kept her hair even smoother, if that was at all possible, it bit at her cheeks and left her nose impossibly red. Her Latin blood was not suited for the cold, and she cursed herself for moving even further up north, until sitting on a bench, oblivious to the cold, she saw a blonde mindlessly tracing shapes into the wooden frame on which she was perched.<p>

"Britt, how in the hell are you not freezing?"  
>"Kurt told me unicorns never get cold, and I believe him. But I brought a jacket just in case, because the snowflake stickers you put on my calendar make it a lot easier to know whether the sky will be crying frosted flake tears."<p>

Biting her lip to hold back a laugh, Santana cautiously pulled up her coat sleeve to check the time. "Shit. I've got five minutes to make it the rest of the way there. Are you coming, or do you want me to meet you somewhere?"

Brittany flashed her a lopsided smile. "I'll meet you at the apartment a little later. I have to talk to one of my dance professors, and I don't want you to turn into a popsicle waiting for me." She pressed her warm lips onto Santana's nearly frost-bitten ones, and grinned before turning away to head in the opposite direction.

The sudden, unexpected contact flushing her face, Santana found the rest of the walk not nearly as biting, and was surprised when she found herself at her advisor's office door in what felt like no time. After a quick explanation of her research topic, covering musical therapy for pediatric cancer patients, she left the office feeling lighter. _One thing down, only a hundred more to go._

A light sprinkling of snow had covered the ground, and the petite latina cursed New York's dismal weather again. Sure, Ohio wasn't the most ideal play to live weather-wise, but the extremes weren't like they were here. She willed her limbs to move as quickly as they could so she could make it to her car and defrost before becoming the frozen delicacy her girlfriend had predicted she would be.

_Girlfriend._

The word wasn't a new one to her lips, as she and Brittany had officially come out as a couple in high school. It was nearly five years from that day, and the word still felt sweet rolling around in Santana's mouth. There were other words that might sound sweeter - _fiancee _or _wife_ - but girlfriend was enough for now.


	2. Little Moments Like That

The drive home was more unbearable than usual. It was nearing Christmas, and a sprinkling of early tourists combined with next-to-last minute shoppers kept the roads at a stand still. Loosening her scarf, she relaxed a bit, before her to-do list hit the forefront of her conscious, and her brain overloaded again. She had been working so hard on her thesis abstract that she'd neglected the rest of her classes, her Christmas shopping, and _fuck._ Brittany.

True, Santana had let everything else fall to the side in lieu of her thesis, Brittany had still caught the brunt of her negligence, and while she wasn't one to say anything, thinking back over the past few weeks, she had received far less attention than she usually had. A quickly flipped blinker, furrowed brows, and a few choice words later, Santana had managed to switch lanes and turn onto a side street the two would frequent during the summers when they had wandered aimlessly through New York.

A small smile played across the Latina's lips as she fondly recalled Brittany's enthusiasm at the smallest things they would pass. Vendors passing with knock-off designer bags or hot dogs covered in every topping imaginable, street dancers or small children playing hopscotch. The tall blonde would pull Santana left and right, bubbling over with excitement, speaking to everyone they encountered that gathered her attention, even for just a moment.

The traffic wasn't nearly as heinous on the side streets, and she quickly navigated her car through those around her, making a few quick stops before pulling into a parallel spot directly in front of their apartment. _Their. _Another word she'd found her lips loved to wrap themselves around.

_We _would love to.  
>Thank you for inviting <em>us.<em>  
>I <em>love <em>you.

Love wasn't a word she had used often until Brittany came into her life, a flurry of intensity, compassion, and laughter. Still, five years later, she could fall asleep in the soft, safe confines of Brittany's arms, laughing softly, a permanent smile etched into caramel skin.

The very same smile laid itself into Santana's worn eyes, her head throbbing, as she pulled her tired body up the front steps and through the front door of _their _apartment. Their home. She called out to Brittany as she dropped her bag near the front door and pulled off the many layers restricting her limbs. A muffled response was all that met her ears, as she heard various disconcerting noises coming from the direction of the kitchen - bangs, clangs, and several Spanish insults, directed at the pots and pans. Hearing her native language rolling off of her girlfriend's tongue warmed her more than the softly crackling fireplace could have as she passed it, making her way into the arms of the slender blonde in front of the stove.

"Hey babe," Brittany said smiling, while simultaneously huffing baby hairs off of her face. "I'm cooking!"

"I see that," Santana replied with a smirk. "Who did you call?"

A look of indignance clouded Brittany's features, before softly folding into resignation. "Rachel. But she told me to cook tofu, and I thought it was a kind of fish, but the man at the store said they only had salmon, and I don't like that col-" Santana managed to remove the spoon from Brittany's hand and meld their lips together in one motion, impeding the furious progress with which the blonde's story was continuing.

A light sigh escaped Brittany's lips, as she smiled down at the Latina. "Color," she finished. "So I made mac and cheese instead. I tried, I really did." Pouting slightly, she wrapped Santana into her arms again, breathing in the intoxicating mix of cold air and cinnamon that had ensnared itself in the skin of the petite girl, who was no longer shivering by any stretch of the imagination. 

Reaching around the small waist of the blonde wrapped in her arms, Santana tapped the knobs on the stove off, and told hold of Brittany's hands, interlacing their fingers. Her eyes flickered slightly, and she gently tugged on her girlfriend's arms, leading her to the couch in front of the fire, the lights playing bouncing around on each of the women's faces.

Santana sank into the couch, welcoming the soft cushioning as it surrounded her tired limbs, and pulled Brittany into her lap, softly stroking the strands of hair just above the nape of her neck.

"Babe?"

"Yeah, Santana?"

"Dinner, the fire - "

"You've been so stressed about your thesis. I just wanted you to have a nice night, to relax. Your favorite wine is in the fridge, and I had cooked, and - "

Santana leaned down, her lips cutting of Brittany's train of thought again. "I picked up your favorite flowers," she said softly, her lips now brushing against her lover's temple, not quite ready to part from the warmth of her skin yet.

"Mine? Why?"

"I may be stressed Britt Britt," Santana said softly, as the long legged blonde smiled at the high school nickname, "but that gives me no right to ignore you." The hands that had been playing in her blonde hair moved further down, slowly massaging Brittany's neck, as she let out a soft groan. "You have been busting serious ass in your choreography class, and don't try and tell me different. Plenty of times during the night I've avoided near fatal attacks on my life while you practice in your sleep."

A laugh playing on her lips, Brittany sat up and leaned into Santana's adept hands, as they slowly removed the tension from her shoulder blades. She was getting drowsy, and knew she wouldn't be able to keep her heavy eyelids open much longer, even as smooth, caramel fingers made their way skillfully toward her thighs. She could feel the heat of Santana's body full against her back, and the warmth continued to lull her to sleep. Try as she might, the body connected to those fingers was fighting a losing battle against sleep as well, and eventually, the Latina pulled them both down, and snuggled into the back she'd come to know as a safe place, reaching over Brittany's thin waist to interlace their fingers once more.

"I love you, you know that right?" The words spilled over her lips without much thought.  
>"Si, para siempre," Brittany whispered back. "Right?"<br>"Right."


	3. All I Want to Do

Santana woke to the soft fluttering of eyelashes on her jawline, and warm, slow, breaths tickling the hairs at the back of her neck. She reluctantly allowed light to creep behind protesting eyelids and found that after she'd fallen asleep, Brittany had rolled over and curled herself into every crevice of Santana's warm body. They were now chest to chest, with Brittany's head nestled sweetly under her lover's chin, legs kin to pretzels, twisted within each other, a centimeter apart far too much for the two women to handle.

Looking at her watch, the Latina saw that it was early morning, but not too early. Using two fingers as if they were legs, Santana's digits slowly made their way down from the sleeping girl's neck, past a generous bust, into the valley of her trimmed waist, finishing the destination at the hem of her shirt. The legs disappeared, as Santana's palm flattened against Brittany's still sleepy skin, overly warm, despite the fact that the fire had gone out hours ago. Tracing letters into her back, Santana grinned when she heard a throaty reply push itself begrudgingly from her lover's lips.

"Babe," the word drawn out, with a tinge of a whine. "It's so early."

"Brittany S. Pierce, you know full well how many times you've done the same thing to me at ungodly hours of the morning. I promise to make it worth your while."

"San-," the blonde began, the whine still caught in her throat, before she was instantly quieted by soft lips upon her own.

"I just wanna slee-" Rather than shush her a second time, the petite brunette took a different approach, her thigh pressing generously between Brittany's legs, a soft moan escaping the woman's lips before she could complete her sentence.

More than awake at this point, if the jolt between her thighs was any indication, long legs wrapped around Santana's thin frame more readily, pulling her closer to Brittany, leaving less room to separate the two aching bodies as their lips came together once again, more desperately, the taste of the other lingering on the lips of each.

Santana managed to catch one of Brittany's roaming hands, and interlaced their coffee and cream fingers, pulling back from a particularly passionate kiss on the blonde's part. "Well good morning Sleeping Beauty; I thought it was too early," she whispered, a slight mocking in her voice.

Not wanting to let the softness of the Latina's hand escape her, the long legs of the lighter girl skillfully flipped Santana on her back, and pinned her down. Both breathing heavily, Brittany in time with the throbbing between her legs, and Santana with the sheer sexiness of her lover's moments, their bodies crashed together again, haphazardly, but just as in sync as ever. Fingers gripping hems, within moments the two were bare, vulnerable, and eyeing one another with desperation.

It was moments like this when Santana lost track of where her mind should be, and fell back to the first time she had seen Brittany like this - their sophomore year. She could remember looking down and memorizing every toned muscle, each freckle across her chest and shoulders and cheekbones. She remembered how the light coming in through the bedroom window lit up her best friend's eyes into a sky blue she hadn't noticed before, her hair so sun kissed it was hard to look at for too long. She remembered thinking that Brittany was beautiful, but she also remembered thinking that maybe those thoughts - those observations - weren't something she should be allowing to float around in her head.

She flashed back to the present, feeling the soft fabric of the couch on her back, her lover's much softer skin beneath her hands, and locked into those eyes - now darker, clouded over with more emotion than Santana had seen in them in a long time. She trailed her fingers up Brittany's sides, resting on hand on each cheek.

"I love you Britt, and there is nowhere I would rather be, than in this moment, right now, with you."

A soft smile flickered across the freckles on the blonde's face, as she traced shapes on Santana's stomach, causing the muscles to twitch with each stroke. She laughed, quiet and lilting, but genuine.

"I love you too Santana, and there is nothing I would rather do, than this, right now, to you," she whispered conspiratorily, a smirk fighting her innocent features. Her fingers moved to the warmth between the Latina's legs, as they had many times before, tracing familiar patterns in the folds. Santana twitched, very aware of the sudden wetness between her thighs, the feeling of Brittany's skin against her chest, her nipples occasionally grazing Santana's as she worked magic on the lower half of the smaller girl's body.

Brittany could feel her lover's muscles tensing as she drew closer to the edge. Santana's breath was uneven, her eyes shut tight, and her nails digging into the blonde woman's back, holding on to every sensation as Brittany's fingers thrust in and out of her, curling at the precise angles to send Santana flying. Her back arched at one particularly deep thrust, and her heart felt as though it were in her throat. Her hands subconsciously tangled themselves in Brittany's hair, pulling her closer down to her chest, to feel every wave of pleasure roll through her body until she collapsed, laying still underneath her girlfriend's warmth.

Removing her fingers from Santana's heat, Brittany rolled over and pulled Santana into her chest, placing a soft kiss on the girl's shoulder blade.

"So can we go back to sleep now?" With no response, she peeked through the dark strands of hair covering Santana's face, and saw her sleeping soundly, a small smile resting on her lips.


	4. Thinking Over

When Santana's eyes peered open several hours later, she found herself alone on the couch, tucked underneath her favorite fleece blanket, a stuffed duck at her side. Smiling to herself, she rolled over, sighing softly, glad to know that things between her and Brittany were again as they almost always had been - perfect. Sitting up, she stretched out her sore limbs, and saw that while it was only about eight, Brittany had apparently left her to her own devices for the morning. There was an empty coffee cup and a granola bar sitting on top of a note on the side table nearest her, and puzzled, she reached for the torn paper, seeing her girlfriend's familiar, if slightly unreadable handwriting looping across the page.

"Breakfast with K and R, then Christmas shopping! I'll get the groceries, don't worry about it. Coffee is still warm in the pot - one cream, two sugars. xx B"

Santana couldn't help but smile at the thoughtfulness of everything Brittany was doing to help her lately. Her parents would be in New York within the week, and she had been too focused on studying to do much of anything but bury herself in books while Brittany tried her best not to distract her. However, despite the fact that the blonde used headphones, her writhing body practicing in every room of the apartment was more than enough to pull Santana's light eyes away from her notes. There was still no Christmas tree, lights, or presents - no warmth for the holiday that meant so much to Brittany, and with all of her tests and her thesis finally out of the way, Santana fully intended to change that.

After a hot shower, that felt entirely too short, the petite Latina bundled up and sent a text to Rachel, who, admittedly, she was still less than fond of, but who would be more than happy to help Kurt keep Brittany occupied for the day.

"Big plans for B. Could you bring her to the duck pond, or FAO Schwartz or something? Just keep her out of the apt pleaseeeee."

As she locked the door behind her, she felt her phone vibrate in her hand, less than a minute between the text and Rachel's response.

"No problem. There's a giant duck display there. Think we got this. :)"

With a sigh of relief, Santana set out down the street, smiling despite herself at the Christmas displays throughout the city. Passing a few small boutiques, she found a scarlet scarf for her mother, and a bottle of her father's favorite cologne easily. They asked her not to give gifts, but she always felt guilty because they had spoiled her so much when she was growing up, to make up for a lack of physical presence. Decorations were nearly as easy, excluding two particular ornaments she had wanted for Brittany.

Her search continued as she passed up and down the streets, growing weary of weaving in and out of pedestrians, but glad she had not thought to try and take her car, as the traffic was worse than it had been the day before. She had been in shop after shop, and couldn't find just what she was looking for. She had managed to convince a high school aged boy to deliver a tree to their apartment, and would be home as soon as she found those two damned ornaments. That was, until her eyes caught a flash of blue, and before she had time to run into the nearest shop, a tall blonde came flying towards her, a smile the size of Texas plastered across her freckled face, her reddened nose scrunched slightly, and her eyes wide, full of something that could not be described as anything less than pure excitement.

"Santana! I had hoped we'd run into you!"

The petite Latina, keeping a smile imprinted on her lips shot Rachel and Kurt a look that could blast them into minute particles of grey matter. Rachel mouthed what seemed like an apology while Brittany pulled Santana into her arms.

"I found the prettiest necklace for your mom, and a duck tie for your dad, and then we went looking for you, and I found a- "

Thankfully shushes from her two friends and a kiss from Santana impeded her thought process. A pretty blush filled her freckles with color, and the blonde smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry babe. I was just really excited about your - " Another soft kiss kept her from ruining the surprise a second time.

"It's perfectly okay Britt. But, you go with your ladies, and I'll see you later, ok?"

A pout threatened the face of the long legged dancer, tugging at Santana's heart strings. "Babe, I've got my own surprises, or else I would want nothing more than to spend the day with you. But you have to go with Rachel and Kurt, or else it will ruin everything." The pout wasn't fading, and Santana pulled a last effort chance. "You could all go and pick up some bread?" she attempted. "I passed the duck pond earlier - they're everywhere, and even though I don't speak their language as well as you do," she whispered, "I think I heard them say they miss you. Why don't you go pay them a visit?"

"But I don't have any money, how can I pay - "

At this point, Kurt intervened, taking hold of Brittany's arm. "Come on Britt, I've got you covered. Us unicorns have to stick together right?" A dazzling smile broke out across the tall girl's face, and Santana met her grin. Pulling on the ends of Brittany's scarf, she planted another kiss on her girlfriend's cheek this time, and walked in the opposite direction, buzzing slightly from the contact, short lived as it was.

Pulling out her phone, she dialed a familiar number, and after a few rings, a soft voice answered, a cross between a smile and a sneer evident in the greeting.

"Um, hey Quinn. Look, I know we've had our ups and downs, but I need your advice."

Help wasn't something Santana asked for often, and the blonde on the other end of the phone call knew this. "Yeah, uh, sure. What's going on Santana? Are you okay? Is Britt?"

"Yeah, yeah. We're just fine," she said, calming any fears Quinn might have. She was known to assume the worst, and the quick tempered Latina was also known to have little patience with that aspect of her friend's personality. "I just, I -"

"Santana, please just spit it out. I know you said you're fine, but you're worrying me."

"Fuck Quinn. I just, I want to - shit. I haven't said it out loud to anyone."

Quinn recoiled any frustration she'd been feeling toward the girl, knowing that admissions like this weren't easy for Santana. The truth had never been a strong suit of hers, unless it was related to someone's general appearance or overtly annoying qualities. Despite knowing each other for nearly eight years, very rarely did they share confidences. Santana was certainly not the person Quinn had gone running to when she discovered she was pregnant, nor was she the person Santana confided in when her sexuality and relationship with Brittany had come into question.

"Okay, okay. Just breathe Santana. I'm right here, whenever you're ready."

"Q? I want to propose to her, to Britt."


	5. Blue Eyed Angels

**Author's Note:**  
>Towards the end, there is some Spanish in an exchange between Santana and another character. The translations are at the bottom, not a far scroll. Haha. If you have any suggestions, typos you see, anything at all - please message me or review it. I take all comments into consideration.<p>

And, thank you for reading! The response has been far more than I ever imagined. 

Santana was met with near silence on the other end of the line. The only sounds were the slightly uneven breaths falling from Quinn's lips and the deafening sound of the gears in her head wrapping themselves around her friend's admission. It certainly wasn't what Quinn had been expecting - it was far more likely for Santana to be in prison on assault charges, or drunken disorderly conduct. But a proposal?

"Lopez, don't take this the wrong way, but you're hardly one for commitment. You changed relationships in high school more often than you changed your underwear. You even quit piano because - "

"Quinn. It's different. You know that it is. I think the fact that I've been with Brittany for almost five years without flaking says something about my fucking commitment." The blonde opened her mouth to protest, but was cut off again by the steam roll of words Santana's mouth didn't seem capable of holding back. "It just, it's different. I don't want to be the person that I was back then. Every time I accomplish something, no matter how small, I can see the pride in her eyes. She's the first person to believe in me, wholeheartedly, no matter how many times I fuck up. She's the only one I can show all of myself to - even the parts that I don't necessarily like. The sun seems brighter, the sky bluer, my words softer when I'm with her. Waking up holding her is the best part of my day, and the only thing that could even possibly compare is being able to fall asleep next to her that night. Q, I can't help but smiling when she crinkles her nose, or gets

excited over the most mundane things, or hell, even when she nearly burns down the apartment because she's trying to cook dinner for us. Every thing about her means something to me. She's too special, too beautiful, too damn precious to me to keep going without knowing that she'll be by my side for the rest of whatever life throws at me."

The soft spoken blonde hummed her approval, but Santana continued, all of the words that had been stuck in her chest for so long spilling over the cracked sidewalks of New York. "I - I imagine a life with her. I can see a house, with a two car garage, and a porch in the backyard, where we .. shit. A porch where we watch our kids play. Two kids, and a golden retriever. I can see myself waking up next to her every morning, and making breakfast while she packs lunches for the kids before we bring them to school. I can see us singing lullabies to our first baby in a nursery decorated in freaking ducks!" The tiny Latina sighed, leaning against a brick walled building, catching the breath she didn't know she had lost. "Quinn, I want forever. I don't want perfect, but I want forever, and I know that she's it."

Tears rimmed the eyelashes of the blonde patiently listening to the overflow of emotions Santana had let loose. It took a moment for her to find her voice, but when she managed to grab hold of it, the words came easily. "Then what is stopping you? Don't tell me that you're afraid, because Lima Heights Lopez doesn't do fear."

"She does when it comes to this."

"Look Santana, Brittany loves you, more than I think I have ever seen one person love another. And you're right. It is different with her. You're softer, calmer, and hell, not that I would ever think to use this word to describe you, but downright sweet when it comes to Britt. You treat her wonderfully, showing her things others wouldn't and explaining what life throws her when it goes a bit too far over her head for her to grasp."

Santana's breath was catching again, and she sunk to the ground, wrinkling her nose at the trash around her, but knowing her legs were incapable of holding her shaking weight for much longer.

"And sweetheart? I can see all of those things for both of you too. The house, the kids, the dog - " Quinn's hazel eyes half shut as she laughed softly at the image of Santana fussing at a puppy in Spanish angrily that crossed her mind. "Just, do it. What's the worst that can happen?"

"She says no."

"She won't, trust me. She never could in high school, and that's one thing that I'm sure hasn't changed much."

Santana grinned, despite herself. "Thanks Q," she said quietly. "I really needed that." Bracing herself against the brick wall again, the Latina slowly stood, brushing dust off of the back of her jeans, while thanking her friend again and saying their goodbyes. Ending the call, she shook her head to clear the thoughts that were running rampant through her brain, focusing again on the task at hand. Passing a nearby street vendor, she grabbed a grande chocolate mocha, and set off down the crowded sidewalks, a renewed sense of confidence instilled in her every movement.

She promised herself two more stores, and then she would end things for the day, and head home to decorate the apartment, because as much as Brittany loved the duck pond, eventually the poor birds would have their fill of her bread, and Kurt and Rachel would no longer have any tricks to pull to keep her out of the house.

It seemed that things were going her way when the first shop she entered had precisely what she was looking for - a replica of the ornament Brittany had been given as a baby, a duckling in a bath tub, covered in bubbles. Every Christmas Brittany would be beside herself with frustration for having dropped it when she was younger, and ever since, Santana had kept an eye out for something similar - but to no avail. Thanking the shop clerk with a smile bright enough to rival the sun, she entered the next shop, a small antique store known for having beautiful jewelry. Brittany and Santana had often visited the elderly owner, a woman who, despite her age, never seemed to mind the two women holding hands or sneaking kisses while they shopped. Truthfully, every time they saw the older woman, the petite Latina felt a stab in her chest, because the woman reminded her a lot of her abuela, whom she still hadn't spoken to since the incident in her kitchen, when she

admitted her feelings for Brittany, but she still loved going in and hearing the woman sing soft Spanish songs Santana too had grown up listening to.

"Busco un anillo. Un anillo de compromiso," she said softly. "Por mi novia."

The elderly woman turned to face Santana, her face lighting up. "Finalmente, eh?" Laughing, Santana nodded and skimmed the case between the two Latinas, not knowing what she was looking for, but confident that she would know it when she saw it - and she did.

She pointed to a simple ring, nothing large or overly fancy, but understatedly beautiful, and slightly unconventional, much like she thought Brittany to be. It was a circular blue gem, surrounded by smaller, crystal clear diamonds. As she removed it from the case, the woman looked up at Santana with a look of knowing. "Como sus ojos, si?"

"Si, porque esos ojos tienen mi corazón. I'll take it."

**Busco un anillo. Un anillo de compromiso. Por mi novia.** - I'm looking for a ring. An engagement ring. For my girlfriend.  
><strong>Finalmente, eh? <strong>- Finally, huh?  
><strong>Como sus ojos, si?<strong> - Like her eyes, right?  
><strong>Si, porque esos ojos tienen mi corazon.<strong> Yes, because those eyes have my heart.


	6. Tiny Dancer

Buzzing internally with the satisfaction of a day well spent, Santana slipped headphones into her ears and softly sang along with the most recent playlist Brittany had synced to her phone as she practically skipped home. She ignored the stares from the other pedestrians, knowing her glow was more than evident to each and every person she passed. She pulled her keys out as she rounded the corner to their apartment. Her key slipped easily into the lock and she let herself into the slightly chilly apartment, dropping her bag on the floor before stepping back out into the wind to grab the Christmas tree the young man had thankfully delivered.

Plugging her phone into the stereo in the living room, Santana found herself doing something very out of character - singing along to the Christmas songs Pandora was providing. The Christmas tree was quickly unbundled and soon lit up near the large bay window in their living room. The young Latina carefully placed the ornaments they had gathered over the years strategically along the limber branches of the pine. She left a spot near the center empty, for Brittany's newest ornament, the duckling.

She turned as she heard her phone vibrate, interrupting Judy Garland's voice, and her face lit up as she grabbed her phone.

_"Can you stop by the studio? I've been working on my senior piece, and want your opinion :) xx B"_

Santana's fingers flew across the keypad as she confirmed that she would be there. Decorating by myself was a little lonely anyway, and she never missed an opportunity to see Brittany's body float across the wooden dance floors of the university's studio. Bundling back up, she went back once again into the frost bitten air, cheeks reddening once more as she hailed a cab quickly, giving the driver directions to the campus she'd come to know as another home.

She couldn't help but notice all of the couples walking down the sidewalks, hand in hand, leaning in toward one another, and her heart tugged for Brittany's lithe body, her warmth, her arms wrapped around Santana's waist. She caught herself smiling at small children pulling their mother's this way and that, and her cab driver gave her a knowing look in the rearview mirror.

"Having a bit of baby fever are we?"  
>"You haven't the slightest idea," she laughed, returning a genuine smile.<p>

Thoughts floated once more back to the future she had described to Quinn, and before she knew it, despite the holiday traffic, the taxi was pulling up to the front steps of the art building. She handed the fare and a generous tip to her driver, and bounded out of the cab, eager to see Brittany after a long day with only moments together. The sun was dipping behind the trees despite it being only early evening, and the air grew chillier, so Santana pulled her coat tight around her body and made her way quickly in the direction of the studio.

The building was eerily quiet now that finals were over, and many had gone home for the holidays, but she could hear the strains of acoustic guitar and the hum of a harmonica in the distance as she made her way through the near silence. She knocked on a wooden door at the end of the hallway, making the blonde dancer jumped in surprise. She let herself in, and was soon enveloped in a sweaty hug from her girlfriend, who was grinning ear to ear. Her lips felt light pressure, and her head rushed from the temporary contact that was no sooner presented than it was taken away as Brittany walked back across the wooden planked floor to the stereo to restart the song. The instruments Santana had heard snippets of were now flooding her senses until the limbs of the blonde were in motion. Forcing every other sensation from her brain, Santana focused on her girlfriend's body, twisting and turning across the floor, her arms and legs seemingly miles long, and a look of serenity gracing her already beautiful face.

She flowed, much like the Hudson did during the spring as the final fragments of ice were absorbed into the rush. Brittany accentuated the song, hearing every back beat and chord the musicians were playing. She movied slowly and softly, then hit certain notes or words, only adding to the feeling of symbiosis Santana knew she felt when music soared through her every molecule. It took nearly half of the song for the petite Latina, arms folded casually across her chest as she leaned against the ballet barre, to recognize the song and the lyrics, one she was sure she had been absent mindedly humming earlier in the streets.

_We're gonna build a home together, you and I for ever and ever._

_And we'll, we'll make babies on a beach, under the stardust_

_And I'll hear your voice come through the door, a thousand times, maybe more_

_And I'll smile inside to know you're mine, completely._

_And I'll wind up every day thinking about the way you make me feel  
>when your lips touch my lips<em>

_And I'd crawl inside a cave, or live somewhere strange -  
>as long as I'm with you, I have got what I need.<em>

Her heart soared with adoration for the lanky blonde as she twisted out of a set of complex jumps, collapsing on the floor laughing. Brittany lifted her arms into the air, and wiggled her fingers and hands, silently asking Santana to join her on the floor. The darker complected girl made her way to her girlfriend, dropping down next to her, and pushing the blonde hair out of her eyes before planting a slow kiss on her lips.

"Es la cosa más hermosa yo jamás he visto."

Brittany knew very little Spanish, but the tenderness with which the words rolled off of Santana's lips made the message as clear as necessary. She smiled shyly, and grabbed her girlfriend's hand before peeling herself off of the floor.

"Let's go home babe. I'm ready for a hot shower and a movie night. Takeout maybe?"

Santana grinned back. "Anything you want. I just missed you," she admitted, flushing slightly, even after all the time they had been together. The smaller girl wrapped her arm around the thin waist of the person she still called her best friend, pulling her close. "I love you Britt. Para siempre."

"Always?"

"Always. Don't ever forget that."

**"Es la cosa más hermosa yo jamás he visto." - **You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.  
><strong>"Para siempre." <strong>- Forever, or for always


	7. Heart's All Gone

**Author's note: **I try to avoid these, because I know you aren't here to read personal anecdotes from me, but I wanted to say that some language in this chapter may be mildly offensive to members of the LGBTQ community and/or supporters of them. Please do not take these words to heart, because I've heard them as I'm sure others of you have on an almost daily basis, directed at me or otherwise. I apologize for that now, but it's much harder to capture the emotion within the prejudice without use of some of these words. I'll keep it to a minimum.

-

The two women didn't split apart until they reached the subway, as neither wanted to wait for a cab to pick them up. They had managed to maintain contact as they walked down the sidewalks in the slight flurry of snow, holding hands as they navigated through the underground crowds of native New Yorkers, just as ready as they were to get home, and were cozily settled on two seats on the subway when they heard someone across from them clear their throat, loudly.

Santana had been nestled into Brittany's shoulder, eyes closed, breathing in deeply her girlfriend's familiar scent as Brittany absentmindedly ran her fingers through the long dark strands of hair falling across the Latina's face. Their hands, intertwined as always, were laying across Santana's lap.

The sound made the two look up, but as they scanned the subway, they saw nothing out of the ordinary, and chalked it up to a bad cold. The two women settled back into familiar territory, and Santana leaned into Brittany's neck to whisper something when they heard it again. More than a cough, it was an attempt at gaining their attention. Caramel eyes hardened as they met steely grey ones. The pair of eyes, as well as the phony hacking, belonged to a middle aged woman, sitting with her daughter directly across from them.

Santana pulled away from Brittany's arms, despite hastened attempts by the blonde to calm the fiery girl down. Lima Heights Lopez was rearing its head, and Brittany did not want to see things get ugly, so close to Christmas.

"Do we have a problem, or do you just need a cough drop?" she leaned forward, placing her elbows crossed on her knees, and spoke calmly, but the venom was evidently seeping through her words.

"I just find issue with my nine year old having to watch such a disgusting display in a public transit system."

The Latina leaned back, pretending to consider the words before standing up and walking over to the woman, who stood as well, defending her position.

"That's cool, because I find issue with innocent children being raised by such prejudiced assholes that they have no opportunity to form their own opinions." When she spoke, her words did not waver in the slightest, and she kept her voice low, surprisingly, in front of the woman's little girl.

"My daughter was raised correctly, and knows better than to fraternize with, or, heaven forbid, _become_ a faggot." Santana's eyes widened, as those she had been physically slapped, and Brittany grabbed her hand quickly, trying to pull her girlfriend back to her seat.

Santana shook her head slightly at the blonde behind her, who's eyes were now brimming with tears. "Look lady, I tried to keep things civil, but I refuse to allow you to call me, my girlfriend, or anyone else on this subway who couldn't help but fall in love like us a_ faggot_." She spit the word out, the taste of each letter bitter on her tongue. "You may not like it, but it's not going anywhere. You can't fucking cure us, or round everyone up and ship us off to gay camp, and your disapproval has absolutely **zero **impact on the way I spend the rest of my life with the woman sitting across from you. We were in no way being vulgar, or disrespectful before you butted in, so kindly sit your pompous ass down, and turn your head if you don't like what you see."

The woman's features contorted into a mixture of disbelief and what looked almost like respect for the words that flew out of the petite Latina's mouth. Santana turned away, a look of determination and confidence flooding her features, but Brittany felt as they grabbed hands again to exit that internally, every molecule of her girlfriend was shaking.

They walked in near silence the few blocks home, Brittany not even daring to point out Christmas decorations she liked. Santana's body was still quivering, and her girlfriend knew, despite the incessant protests, that it was not because of the weather.

Brittany reached the door first, pulled out her keys, and let them both in. The door was barely shut behind her before Santana collapsed in the entry way, sobs wracking her thin frame. Brittany slid down the wall next to her, wrapping her arms around the hysterical girl, pulling her close. Pressing her lips to Santana's temple, she rocked her slowly, making quiet shushing noises, bringing the sobs down to a whimper.

"Your abuela?"

Santana's throat felt like sandpaper, and her tongue was taking up most of her mouth. She simply nodded.

"Baby, she's the one missing out, on the beautiful woman you've become these past few years, you know that don't you?" Brittany's attempts were met with no response, just a few coughs as Santana tried to catch her breath. "Please tell me you know that," she whispered, hurt catching in her throat as she held her girlfriend's face, caressing each cheek, wiping the tears still falling. Santana nodded again.

Brittany stood up, pulling Santana up off of the floor with her. "This is not going to ruin date night," she grinned. "I'm gonna go start a bath for you, and grab you a glass of wine, and we're going to curl up and watch movies and stare at Mila Kunis' body, okay? Sound good?" she said teasingly, lifting up the diminutive Latina's chin and winking.

Santana fought a laugh, and wrapped her arms around the limber blonde's body, taking comfort in her warmth. "I love you Britt Britt. More than Mila," she whispered, with a giggle, uncurling herself from her girlfriend, and making her way up the stairs toward the bathroom. She turned around at the top, and stuck her head over the banister. "You know, you could join me." Brittany's eyebrows disappeared into her bangs, as a smile snuck across her face. "Unless, of course, you're afraid of being shipped off to gay camp."


	8. Lips of an Angel

Brittany had loved Santana as long as she could remember, but in true Brittany fashion, she loved things that no one else noticed about the hot blooded Latina. She snuck peeks when Santana was getting ready in the mornings, because the look on her face as she got tangled in too many straps on a form fitting dress or the furrowed brows when she hopped around on one leg in sky high heels warmed her heart. She loved how Santana, and the rest of her family, seemed incapable of telling a story without using their hands. A smile would pull across Brittany's lips when Spanish would fly quickly off of the so very familiar tongue, no matter whether the words were drenched in passion or accompanied by the sting of frustration. She loved how Santana fidgeted when she was filled with impatience, how she hummed along to every song in the car; she loved catching the girl when she thought she wasn't being watched, belting along to Adele or shaking her hips along to the rap music she denied an affinity for. She loved the privacy she was afforded because the beautiful girl was hers and hers alone - and these things were only offered up to Brittany's eyes - the softer side of Santana, unguarded, and utterly vulnerable.

Thankfully, as they lay in the warm confines of their bath tub, the dancer's eyes were not in her girlfriend's direct line of vision. Santana's messy bun tickled Brittany's cheek as she snuggled further into her body, sighing softly.

The skin contact was nearly too much to bear, as each brush of arm, leg, or breast when Brittany adjusted her body left Santana breathless and hopelessly turned on. The warmth of the water, held in by a thick layer of bubbles, could not compete with the searing quality of freckled skin on caramel. As if reading her mind, Santana felt Brittany's slightly wrinkled hands on her shoulders, turning her so they were face to face. She lifted her legs and let them fall over the long limbs attached to the blonde who's eyes were softened around the corners, watching her intently. The Latina was unbearably aware of their cores' vicinity to one another, their breasts pressing together, hands subconsciously wandering. Both leaning forward slightly, the minute space between their lips disappeared, and teasing Brittany's mouth open, Santana's tongue fluttered in, mimicking the motions of the butterflies threatening to explode in her stomach.

She slid her open mouth across Brittany's cheeks, finding a home in the hollow just under her jawbone. She trailed a path down her neck, planting kisses down to her collarbone, where she began lightly sucking on the skin there, biting as occasional moans escaped her lover's lips. Her voice husky, three words fell over Brittany's tongue and teeth.

I need you.

The words still sent shivers down Santana's spine. Goosebumps made an appearance across the majority of her skin, as her hand slid in the limited space between their legs, stroking the nerves there, as if she were taking an often driven road trip. She no longer needed a map to know when to turn or where she was going - she had Brittany's body memorized. She knew after all this time what motions would ellicit response. She knew the sounds, the twitch of her muscles, the cloudiness that covered her typically crystal clear eyes.

Santana moved her mouth further down, her tongue flicking against the center of Brittany's breast, the woman's back automatically arching in response, allowing better access to the firm nipple as Santan let her fingers continue their journey down, teasing her girlfriend's entrance. The words came again - more desperate this time

_I need you._

Looking up, her lips crashed into Santana's hungrily, no contact satisfying the incessant throbbing between her legs, until two slender fingers slipped inside of her, a moan rattling through her throat as the thrusting grew more frantic. She wrapped herself around her girlfriend as her lips found Santana's shoulder, biting down lighting. The entirity of the Latina's surged with desire and she furthered her efforts, resuming the light sucking on Brittany's upper body. Adding another finger, her third, she felt the whole of the blonde's body tense in anticipation, a strangled moan echoing against the walls. A few more thrusts and Santana felt the limber body shudder in release and collapse against her.

They both stayed still, bodies glistening, intertwined in every sense of the word. Santana slowly removed her fingers and traced the bruises that were already forming along the freckled collarbone.

"Damn, I'm sorry Britt Britt." The blonde met her eyes with a questioning look, then followed the darker eyes downward, toward the gentle caresses along her chest.

"Oh that? I don't care. I never mind if people know I'm yours, and yours only, remember? _Proudly so._ Besides, they're probably jealous of all the lady kisses I get that they don't. I'd be jealous too if your tongue weren't all over me." She cracked a grin and planted a lingering kiss on Santana's puffy lips, before standing up and grabbing a towel for each of them. They dried off and padded downstairs with their long forgotten wine glasses, calling a pizza for delivery before settling down on the couch.

"Pineapple jalapeno again B?" Santana asked, groaning slightly.

"Says the unexpected combination of sweet, yet hot and spicy. Okay," she said laughing, drawing out the last word.

The Latina couldn't help but laugh too, as she curled up next to her girlfriend, eyes half closed, seemingly content again. She heard her phone buzzing on the table, and leaned forward to grab it, smiling as she read the identity of the caller.

"Hola, Mami! Como esta?" She chirped into the phone. Brittany leaned in to offer a greeting as well.

"Hola mijas. Having a good time?"

"Movie night, so si." Santana knew the small talk was a cover. She could hear an edge in her mother's voice, and, as much as she hated to admit it, she had no idea why.

"Bien, bien. Pero, puede entrar otro cuarto? Yo no deseo que Brittany oiga esto."

"Mami, ella todavía oirá todo más tarde."

"Si, si. Santana, your abuela is coming with us, for Christmas."

"Okay, and?"

"Desea que vuelva a casa, y deje a Brittany en Nueva York. Ella todavía no es buena con esta situación."

Santana stood from the couch, and began pacing, her feet burning holes in the floor, and her words harsh, and unrecognizable to Brittany, who had been following some of the conversation.

"Yo no cuido si está bien consigo. Adoro a Brittany, y yo no vuelvo a casa." Her words were fast and hit hard. The blonde sat back on the couch, watching with her bottom lip sucked in, a common sign that she was nervous. She had seen Santana like this only a few times before - on the subway earlier, several times with Rachel, and when she had told her she wasn't going to break up with Artie. "Eschucha me. Yo no vuelvo a casa Mami. Nunca."

"Breathe Santana. Lo siento mi bambina. Viene aunque. Quise advertirle. Lo siento otra vez. Te quiero los dos." She paused. "Adios mijas."

Santana slowly returned to the couch, and Brittany tried to catch her eyes, to no avail.

"Your abuela is coming?" she whispered. Santana nodded. "Well, that's good right?"

The smaller woman had tears streaming down her face when she finally met her girlfriend's stare. "No Britt, I don't think it will be."

-

"Hola, Mami! Como esta?"  
><strong>Hey Mom. What's up?<br>**"Bien, bien. Pero, puede entrar otro cuarto? Yo no deseo que Brittany oiga esto."  
><strong>Good, good. But, can you go in another room? I don't want Brittany to hear this.<strong>  
>"Mami, ella todavía oirá todo más tarde."<br>**Mom, she will still hear it later.**  
>"Desea que vuelva a casa, y deje a Brittany en Nueva York. Ella todavía no es buena con esta situación."<strong><br>She wants you to come home, and leave Brittany in New York. She still isn't okay with this situation.**  
>"Yo no cuido si está bien consigo. Adoro a Brittany, y yo no vuelvo a casa. Eschucha me. Yo no vuelvo a casa Mami. Nunca."<br>**I don't care if she is okay with it. I love Brittany, and I am not coming home. Listen to me. I'm not coming home Mom. Never.**  
>"Breathe Santana. Lo siento mi bambina. Viene aunque. Quise advertirle. Lo siento otra vez. Te quiero los dos. Adios mijas."<p>

**I'm sorry baby girl. She's coming though. I wanted to warn you. I am sorry again. I love you both. Goodbye my darlings.**


	9. Homecoming

The next few days passed more quickly than had the few weeks prior, much to Santana's discontent. Her mother's words played in an endless loop in her mind -

She wants you to come home.

Leave Brittany.

"This situation."

She's coming anyway.

Leave Brittany.

Leave. 

It was hard to come to terms with the fact that after five years, her abuela could still be so against what could easily be considered the most important portion of Santana's life - her girlfriend. She didn't understand how she could be angered by something so pure, so full of love and life. Worries haunted her, of how things would play out when her family arrived, how Brittany would be treated, what exactly would be said. Her thoughts frequently flitted away to the ring tucked at the back of her dresser drawer. She hadn't remembered being that happy in the longest time, perhaps ever, and Brittany could see the internal struggle Santana was facing, as the arrival of her family drew nearer.

They had finished decorating, and started cooking, if you could consider it that. Brittany was not allowed to work appliances, touch anything that might be hot, or stir too quickly. As Santana prepared, Brittany often sat on a stool in their kitchen, watching her girlfriend take out her frustrations on the pots and pans, singing softly to herself. Her parents and her abuela were set to arrive the next morning, Christmas Eve, and were meant to stay through New Year's, though neither young woman truly believed that would happen. 

"Santana?" The petite woman, up to her arms in sauces and casseroles and cake preparation murmured something over her shoulder that sounded like an affirmative.

"Babe, look at me. I promise the cranberry sauce isn't going anywhere. The food fairies haven't been hiding things lately, but I know the trolls have been stealing my socks again." Brittany shook her head, attempting to clear her thoughts and get back on track. "But just, babe. Look at me, please."

Santana turned, walking over, ending up between Brittany's semi-spread legs, holding her thighs and looking into cobalt eyes, her walls cracking around her. "It's going to be okay Santana."

"Britt, I just, I can't believe that. I'm so afraid of what she's going to do, or say."

"You can handle anything."

"Not this, and especially not if she comes after you. I shouldn't have to choose between my blood family and my future one." She dropped her eyes, not meaning to let the last sentence slip out. Tears filled indigo eyes, sticking to the tips of Brittany's long lashes.

"Did you mean that?" A wavering smile played on her lips. Santana simply nodded, her words stuck in her throat, her mind flying back again to the ring in her drawer. She planted a soft kiss on Brittany's cheek before she turned back to stirring the pots on the stove. Finishing up everything, as her girlfriend continued singing, even more happily than before, Santana cleaned the kitchen, straightened the living room, and wandered into their room to take a shower before curling up in bed with Brittany.

She nuzzled into the blonde shoulder, taking in her familiar scent, a mix of vanilla and freshly washed sheets. Santana felt herself drifting off as her girlfriend gently nudged her in the ribs.

"B, I'm sleepy."

"I know. But we won't have a lot of time just us once we pick up everyone at the airport in the morning. I just want you to remember that nothing anyone can say will change what I feel about you. I won't ever leave until you ask me to."

"Te amo mi cariña."

"Love you too baby."

Both woman slipped quickly into sleep, not looking forward to the early alarms set on their phones so they would not be late to pick up Santana's family in the morning.

xxx 

Just as she suspected, the incessant beeping of her phone mixed with the rap song rousing Brittany came far too early for either of the two women to feel truly rested. Groaning slightly as they simultaneously flipped their alarms off, they nestled back into one another quickly, relishing in the last moments they would have alone for the next week.

Tracing shapes on Santana's stomach, Brittany whispered to her, her voice shaking slightly. "Are you scared baby?"

"No, no. I'm fine."

"You don't have to pretend with me Santana. I'm kind of nervous too." A sigh fell from the lips of the Latina, and she nodded. Pulling her closer, the blonde pressed her lips against the dark hair covering them both. "It's okay to be nervous you know. This isn't going to be easy for you. You love her so much, and I know you wish she accepted us."

Hearing the every thought that had been floating through her head escaping Brittany's mouth, Santana was overwhelmed with affection, tinged with guilt. Her girlfriend knew her abuela was coming to New York, but she didn't know why. All Santana wanted was a perfect Christmas for the two of them, and it seemed as though the forces of the universe were working against her every attempt.

"Come on, we have to get dressed. Their flight lands in an hour, and you know how much Abuela hates to be left waiting." They both dressed quickly, layering to prevent what seemed like inevitable frostbite. Far sooner than Santana wished, they were heading out of the door to her car, en route to the airport to meet the demons she thought she had left behind in Lima. She felt Brittany slip her fingers into hers, the sensation somewhat calming her nerves, as she listened to her passenger sing along to a Chipmunks song about hula hoops.

The drive to the airport was quick, despite Santana's efforts to drive five miles under the speed limit. The traffic hadn't picked up yet, because of the early hour. Pulling into a parking spot, she let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding. Slender fingers squeezed her own before disconnecting to leave the warmth of the car for the frigid outdoor air.

The two hands found each other within moments of the doors shutting, and they wandered through the airport silently, bumping shoulders to a beat only they could hear, looking for the gate they were meant to meet Santana's family at.

Settling into seats to wait, Brittany leaned over to kiss her girlfriend's cheek, whispering encouraging words until the spell was broken by shouting in Spanish behind them. She couldn't understand what was being said until she turned and saw Santana's grandmother hiss at her daughter, "You said she wouldn't be here. I won't be spending my holiday under the roof of an abomination."

Brittany's eyes grew wide, and she gripped Santana's hand with everything she had before a single tear rolled down her cheek.


	10. Make Damn Sure

Santana squeezed her girlfriend's hand back before standing to address her family. "Mami, Papi, Abuela! Hola, como esta?"

"Bien," the older woman said through gritted teeth, before she was forced into an embrace by her granddaughter. Thankfully, the rest of her family was more courteous. Her mother wrapped Brittany in her arms and placed a kiss on her forehead, apologizing for the eldest Latina's words. The tall blonde merely nodded, holding back more tears as she turned to Santana's father and hugged him as well.

She plastered a smile across her freckles and focused on the original cause of the disturbance. "It's good to see you again Abuela." The diminutive matriach of the family merely nodded in her direction before addressing Santana again.

"You need to get our bags."

"Si Abuela. I was just so excited to see all of you, I got caught up - "

"¿Es alcanzado en muchas cosas que usted no debe, si?" the woman replied, an edge in her words. _You get caught up in a lot of things you shouldn't, right? _Santana's anger flared, and her cheeks flushed. While her mother used Spanish out of habit, her grandmother did so in order to remove Brittany from conversations, making situations even more uncomfortable than necessary.

Ignoring the rough words, Santana rejoined Brittany's side, offering her hands. "Let's go get their things Britt Britt." She wanted to take her away from the boiling temperature of the exchanges, and hopefully have a moment to speak alone. They walked in silence toward the baggage claim for her family's flight, most of the suitcases already claimed, making it easier to spot the luggage they were searching for. Santana easily retrieved the three bags, and turned to see her girlfriend frozen in the same spot she'd left her.

She walked over, and gently placed a hand on Brittany's cheek. "Talk to me baby, please."

"I just don't understand how she can have so much hate in her heart Tana. I know you have your moments, but deep down, every piece of you is beautiful, and loving. Why would she treat me like this, just because I love you?" Her voice had cracked, and tears threatened to spill from her eyes, dark and stormy.

"Britt," Santana whispered, pulling her girlfriend's shaking body into her own. "What she thinks doesn't matter. I love you, I will always love you, and we will get through this week together. I promise."

"But she's your family."

"No, baby, no. You are my family, and you are my home." She planted a soft kiss on Brittany's dampened cheeks, and wrapped her arms around a small, familiar waist. "Come on. Let's get out of here. When we get home, I'll put you in the bathtub, with more bubbles than you could ever know what to do with, and your favorite rubber duck. I would say a glass of wine, but I think you might need something a little stronger." The blonde cracked the first smile since they woke up, which now felt hours away. "And I'll talk to her. I'll tell her that if she doesn't start treating you better, she is more than welcome to leave, because I won't have you feeling uncomfortable in your own home."

They gathered the bags, and walked back toward the small family of Latinos, two of whom were sitting patiently, the third pacing with a scowl across her features - one that rivaled Santana's worst. Her parents looked up, smiling as they best they could, and they walked out of the airport in silence. After loading up the car, Santana switched on the radio for a few moments before being cut off by her grandmother.

"I have a headache Santana. Switch it off." It was obvious that the silence suited her attempts to make Brittany uncomfortable, but the youngest Latina was not going to allow it. At a stop light, she leaned over and kissed her girlfriend on the cheek, then grabbed her hand, interlacing their fingers in retaliation to the harsh words her grandmother insisted upon. The car ride was silent for the rest of the ride home, and after pulling into a parking spot, she handed Brittany the keys and asked her to unlock the door and head into their bedroom.

As she was pulling her family's bags out of the trunk of her car, Santana's eyes met her grandmother's, and held a fiery gaze. Her parents noticed the exchange, and made their way inside with their bags, allowing things to play out as their daughter felt necessary.

"Abuela, por qué?" The older woman merely raised her eyebrows in response, smirking. "Don't play games with me. I'm not the little girl who's hair you would braid. I'm not the teenager you rejected for falling in love with a woman. And I'm not who you want me to be, nor will I ever be that person. So, what do you expect me to do for the rest of the week? This is her home - _our _home - and I'm not going to let you speak to her like that again. Either you stay, and you play nice, or you leave, now. Your bags are still in the trunk, and I am more than happy to buy you a ticket back to Ohio."

The shock was visible against the wrinkled skin of the woman, surprised by her granddaughter's verbal confidence; she hadn't imagined Santana would actually stand up to her.

"So, what is it going to be?" The young woman's face was harsh, the steel in her eyes matching the tone of her words. Her arms were folded tightly across her chest, not allowing her heart to waver, and she tapped her foot impatiently, a habit she had acquired from the very woman she was standing in front of.

"Santana, you're asking quite a lot from an old woman."

"I'm asking you to love me, and be happy that I have found love. That isn't a lot." She was met with silence, and before she lost her nerve, she blurted out the one thing she hadn't had the courage to say to anyone's face just yet. "I'm proposing to her Abuela. I know she's the one I want to spend the rest of my life with, and I hope, one day, you can accept that. If you can't -"

Shaking her head, the young woman turned from her grandmother, headed toward the front door.

"Santana?" She looked over her shoulder, bracing herself for all hell to break loose.

"Si?"

"Trataré." _I'll try._


	11. Don't You Wanna Stay

**Author's Note:** I want to thank everyone for the kind words as I've been writing this. I appreciate every review and suggestion. :)  
>I know this is a short chapter, but I'll have another one either tonight or tomorrow. I just needed a stopping point for this section, so bear with me here.<p>

* * *

><p>A glimmer of hope flooded Santana's chest as she nodded with a smile toward her grandmother, before turning back down the steps to help with her bags. She leaned over to grab hold of the suitcase's handle, and found herself wrapped into a tight embrace.<p>

"Gracias Abuela. Tratando medios el mundo a mí. Ella significa el mundo a mí." She was, for the first time in years, being open and honest with the woman who practically raised her. Brittany did mean the world to her, and the effort from the conservative elder Latina meant just as much. They pulled away, both unsure of what the week had in store for them, but the tension was broken as they crossed the threshold of Santana's apartment.

Remembering Brittany's tumultuous morning, the young girl placed a hand on her mother's back and a kiss on her cheek before leaving her family to unpack their things, nodding in the direction of her bedroom and her girlfriend.

Her mother took note of the change in Santana's body language, and smiled, nudging her to check on Brittany. "Vaya a mi querido. Le necesita." _She needs you._Her daughter returned a soft smile, before exiting, the tension in her chest lifting some, until she shut the bedroom door behind her and found her girlfriend collapsed on the floor in body wrenching sobs.

"Britt?" she intoned, her voice quivering. "Britt, baby, what's wrong?"

She found her way to the floor, enclosing the hysterical blonde in her arms, cooing and rubbing her back until words found their way over and out of trembling lips. "I can't do it Santana. I can't do this for another week."

"Babe, I talked to her. She said she's going to try to support us."

"_Try?_" She trilled, sitting up quickly. "_**Try**_? I tried Santana. Why should a promise of trying mean anything? It didn't to her." Her words were short and hit Santana square in the chest. They both fell silent, the only audible noise in the bedroom being Brittany's breath, harsh and uneven. The blonde's temper was quiet, if nonexistent, but in moments like these, she was hard to reason with.

"I'm sorry," Santana replied, her voice breaking lightly, her eyes shut tight. "But Britt, she's still my family. I have to - "

"Good for you. Do whatever it is you feel you have to do. I'm going out." When she opened her eyes, all Santana saw was a sheath of blonde hair, the body attached to it unwavering as it left her alone on the floor. The petite Latina, now feeling a thousand times smaller, leaned back against the wall she'd be sitting against, hitting her head lightly, as the front door slammed.

"_Fuck._"


	12. After Midnight

The white shirt she wore fluttered as she moved slowly throughout the room. Dark hair hanging loose, and eyes simultaneously wild, yet seemingly calm as well, her heart spilling the words her lips found themselves incapable of wrapping themselves around. A blonde sat nearby, curls gently framing her face, eyes brimming with tears as these words floated toward her, wavering.

_For you, there'll be no more crying_

_For you, the sun will be shining_

_And I feel that when I'm with you_

_It's alright, I know it's right_

Her arms were outstretched, baring her feelings as they fell onto the floor around her feet. The air was still sans the stream of words flowing between the two woman, each bound to the other by the lyrics.  
><em><br>And the songbirds are singing,_

_Like they know the score_

_And I love you, I love you, I love you_

_Like never before_

"Santana, where did Brittany go? Frosty the Snowman is on, and that's her favorite, isn't it?" The young woman was roused from the inner workings of her brain, junior year set on repeat behind her eyelids. It took a moment to comprehend that the question her mother posed required a response, and with a sandpaper tongue, an answer was elusive. She merely nodded. "Mi querida, qué pasa?"

Hot tears threatened behind Santana's eyelashes. "She left. I don't know where she is."

"Why did she - "

"She was upset that I took up for Abuela, after everything she said this morning." Her mother's eyes closed, and her hands worked their way up to her temples, massaging them.

"Si, si. Yo se. Santana, you must go after her."

"Mami, I don't know where she went, or who she's with, or what she's doing. I don't even know if she'd want to speak to me." The entire situation felt hopeless, despite the brevity of it. "You can't imagine the hurt on her face, the frustration, the anger. I can't remember the last time she looked that way."

"Well, mi bambina, what would she do if the roles were reversed?"

That was a question with little necessary thought. "She would give me time to sort things out, and then call me, so we could talk about it."

Her mother simply nodded, and walked out of the room, leaving Santana with her heart in her hands, and her mind traveling at light speed, thinking of all the things that could go wrong with this plan. 

* * *

><p><em>I'm sorry. The person you are trying to reach is not accepting calls at this time. <em>

Santana hit the red button on her phone, hanging up the call before listening to the end of the damned message for what felt like the hundredth time. It was nearly two in the morning, and she had gone everywhere she could possibly think of within twenty blocks to find Brittany. She'd called, texted, and left voicemails - then did the same for anyone who might have heard from her. No one had.

Giving up, she changed into sweats and one of the blonde's t-shirts, inhaling the scent that would normally calm her shaking nerves, but now only further clenched her stomach and perpetuated the ache in her chest. Curled up alone under the sheets, she dozed off with her phone in her hand, with the ringer turned as loud as it could possibly go, on the off chance Brittany would call.

_She acts like summer and walks like rain \  
><em>

_Reminds me that there's time to change_

Groggily, Santana rolled over to silence her phone, before realizing who was calling. It was a habit of her girlfriend's to occasionally change her ring tone from time to time, and though it had caused a few sticky situations (like the time the Thong Song started playing during her anatomy midterm), it warmed the Latina's heart.

Breathlessly answering, she turned to look at her alarm clock, bright red numbers mocking her through the cover of darkness in their bedroom. "Britt?" It was 3:47 in the morning. "Britt, are you okay?"

"I don't know where I am or how I got here," she sobbed into the phone. "And I'm cold and all alone and - "

"Baby, breathe. Please try and find something around you for me to look for, so I can find you. Do you see anything? Hear anything?"

"I hear the ducks," she whispered sadly. "I can't find them, because every time I get up to look, I fall down, but I can hear them."

"I'm coming. Don't move Britt. I'm coming."

Santana grabbed her coat and keys, and flew out of the front door in sheer seconds. The short drive to the park felt like an eternity, and she prayed no cops would stop her, because speed limits were merely a suggestion at this point - a suggestion she was blatantly ignoring. She pulled into a parking spot near the duck pond, and cupping her hands to fight the wind, called Brittany's name to no avail. She called her phone, but there was no answer there either. She circled the duck pond, looking into every possible place her girlfriend could be, panic rising in her chest with each unanswered call until she heard a soft whimper coming from her left.

She ran toward the sound, and found Brittany curled in a ball at the base of a tree at least fifty yards from any form of civilization. She pulled the girl into her arms, rocking her slowly, cooing repetitious phrases.

_I'm here. I'm right here. It's okay. You'll be okay. I'm not going anywhere. I'm here._

When she finally had a moment to look down at Brittany, she had to hold back the look of shock that would have been clearly etched into her features. Matted hair, a blackened eye, and torn clothing were complimented with dirt and what looked like smeared blood across her left shirt sleeve. Not wanting to upset her, Santana lifted her girlfriend to her feet to go home, no questions asked. Limping slightly, Brittany did not make it easy, as she was stumbling as well, unable to clearly focus on her path.

Unwilling to meet the questioning eyes of her family, Santana did not chance running a bath when they arrived back at the apartment. She hoped they would be up early enough to do so before her parents crawled out of bed Christmas morning, as Brittany seemed as though she would need help.

She stripped the blonde down, and piled her hair on top of her head before allowing her to slip under the sheets, where she fell fast into a deep sleep. Santana curled up next to her, hoping the proximity, warmth, and familiar scent of her girlfriend's skin would lull her to sleep. The scent was elusive though, covered by a night of god-knows-what, and stripped from the freckled shoulders of the beautiful woman lying in Santana's arms.

_Nothing happened. Nothing happened. Nothing happened. Nothing happened._

Maybe if she repeated it enough times, she would begin to believe it.


	13. Your Body is a Wonderland

Author's Note: First of all, I apologizing for not having updated in a little while - I have been incredibly busy with work and school, and sadly, this was the first thing to fall to the wayside.

However, with that being said, this is the longest chapter thus far, and I hope you enjoy it. :)

* * *

><p>"Santana, sweetheart. It's time to get up. Merry Christmas." Santana rolled over groggily, expecting blue eyes to meet hers, and was surprised when she found Brittany still fast asleep, and her mother leaning over her, rousing her from a deep, albeit fitful sleep. "You need to get her into the shower before your abuela catches a whiff of the distinct stench of bar floor when she gets up. I'll have some aspirin and a bottle of water on the dresser when you get Brittany out of the shower. I'm sure she has a hell of a hangover."<p>

The night before, Santana had hardly noticed the pungent scents wafting off of her girlfriend's body, as all other sensations were overwhelmed by her relief to have Brittany back in her arms. She gently tickled the blonde's ribs, expecting a fit of giggles and a potentially lethal kick from strengthened legs. She received no response.

Panic grabbing hold her, the tiny woman crawled over her lover, checking for slow motions in the chest she had so often fallen asleep against, and was relieved to find there was movement. She nudged Brittany's shoulder, softly brushed her cheek with tender fingers, kissed her lips - yet still nothing. Her patience wavering, Santana grabbed hold of the girl, dragging her to the bathroom, removing what little clothing she had on, placing her on the floor of the shower, and turning the cold water on high. Cruel perhaps, but restitution for a night of worry.

"Santana, what the fuck!" met her ears as she heard coughs and spluttering. "Oh my god, my head. What happened last night?"

Opening the shower door to lean in and twisting the hot water on, she caught Brittany's eyes. "I wish I knew Britt. You had no idea when I found you."

"Found me? Found me where?"

"Passed out underneath a tree in the park full of dirt and blood," the brunette replied, with a slight layer of ice over her words, despite the horrible twisting in her stomach.

"I only had two drinks, really babe. I don't know what happened." She pushed her soaking wet hair out of her eyes, and wrinkled her brows today, a sure tell sign she was legitimately confused.

"It's okay, we don't have to talk about it Britt Britt. Just get showered up." She leaned into the shower, doing her best to avoid the spray, and planted a quick kiss on her girlfriend's pouted lips. "By the way drunkie - merry Christmas."

Pulling on skinny jeans and a red sweater, Santana heard the water shut off, and moments later, Brittany padded past her, grabbing the aspirin and water off of the dresser as she towel dried her long hair. She still seemed a bit unsteady the Latina noticed, as she carefully watched her girlfriend's motions. She knew however, that pressing the topic when Brittany was so insistently unsure of what happened might cause another blow up - a chance she wasn't willing to take, especially today.

Instead, she walked over, wrapping her arms around the naked blonde, softly kissing her shoulder blade, before offering to start breakfast as everyone else yanked themselves from the warmth of their beds. The coffee was brewing and pancakes were simmering when the rest of household slowly made their way into the living room, curling up in various positions close to the fireplace.

"Buenos días, dormilón," Santana heard her grandmother say over the clinking of the plates she'd just brought in. "_Sleepyhead_," she translated to the confused blonde as Brittany sank into the couch cushions, welcoming a cup of coffee from hands nearly the same shade.

"Buenos días, Abuela. Slept well?" Santana and her mother shared a knowing glance at the exchange, which while not quite comfortable, did not hold the tension it had the day prior.

"Si, gracias," the older woman replied, a genuine smile gracing her features. She stood, walking to the Christmas tree, ready to pass out gifts as everyone finished their breakfasts and settled into a comfortable silence.

* * *

><p>With all the presents opened, Santana's mother was fingering her new scarf, her father was bragging to his unlistening partner about how well their daughter knows him, and Brittany continued cooing to her duckling ornament after repeating "best. Christmas. ever" multiple times. Trash strewn across the living room floor, the underneath of the tree was now bare excluding a few gifts for Rachel and Kurt, and one box without a tag.<p>

"Santanita, this is for both of you." The two women raised their eyebrows at each other before accepting the brightly wrapped gift from Abuela's wrinkled hands. They certainly weren't expecting a present, particularly one meant for both of them, as the older woman had stated, but nevertheless, worries aside, they slowly peeled away the paper from the small box in their laps.

"Abuela," Brittany breathed. "I love it, absolutely love it. Thank you." Santana, however, was speechless. Enclosed in soft tissue was a picture frame, rectangular and nothing truly out of the ordinary. It was separated into six sections though, each holding a photograph.

The first was a blushing Latina woman, on what seemed like her first date. Santana recognized her grandfather immediately as the man standing next to her. Underneath was a photo of their wedding day. The same was seen for her mother and father, in the next two places. She looked up at them smiling at each other, their looks not too different from the ones they wore on their first date. Her eyes then fell onto the last set of two, one of which was empty. She felt Brittany lean into her to gaze at the photo set again, taking in the last photo as well. It was easily recognizable, but wasn't sure how her grandmother had gotten a hold of it.

In the photo are two bright, smiling faces she'd become more than familiar with. She and Brittany were settled on the porch of Pierce's home after a cheerleading camp, the day they met, ice cream smeared across their cheeks, smiles plastered on their youthful faces. They couldn't have been more than eight years old that day.

"Abuela?" Santana voiced, barely above a whisper.

"Lo luché, pero yo siempre he sabido que se casaría a Brittany. He tenido ese marco durante mucho tiempo Santana. Fue un asunto de aceptar sinceramente las cosas."

The words swam in her head.

_I have always known that you would marry Brittany.  
>I have had that frame for a long time Santana.<br>It was a matter of accepting things.  
>Always known.<br>Accept._

"¿Dónde está el anillo? Vaya. Consígalo." Brittany was blissfully unaware of the hushed conversation directly to her right, though with the speed with which the women were speaking, it was unlikely she would have understood much anyway.

"No ahora." _Not now._Santana shook her head slightly. She leaned to her left, letting her lips fall onto Brittany's shoulder, and smiling as she nuzzled back. "Merry Christmas beautiful."

A shy smile graced the blonde's features. "Merry Christmas baby." 

* * *

><p>The after Christmas shuffle was lost on the Lopez-Pierce clan, who avoided the rush of shoppers returning presents they weren't satisfied with by watching movies and playing board games, much happier snuggled near the fire than fighting the snowstorms outside the foggy windows. However, that night would be the first the two women ventured out since they had picked up Santana's family at the airport, going to meet a small group of friends for drinks to exchange late gifts and catch up on the holidays.<p>

Brittany had bought Santana's parents and grandmother tickets to see Wicked, and that evening, they would be splitting up for the first time since her family had arrived. As they got ready, the blonde bubbled with a contagious enthusiasm, incredibly excited to see their friends. Santana couldn't help but smile back at the freckled face. For the first time in a long time, she was perfectly content, and though she always had a tugging feeling in the back of her head that warned her not to get too comfortable with feelings of happiness, she brushed it away.

Locking her phone after answering a text message from Rachel, Santana turned to watch her girlfriend absentmindedly humming as she struggled with the clasp on her necklace, her typically calm features scrunched up. Crossing the room, she skillfully secured the necklace, and ran her fingers down the chain to prominent collar bones, before wrapping her arms around a slim waist and planting a kiss on Brittany's cheek.

"Abuela isn't feeling well, so I'm going to run down the street to get her some medicine. Rachel is already on her way over here, so I'll just meet you guys at the bar, okay?"

A pout clouding her face, the slender blonde nodded. "I wish you could come now," she whimpered, dragging out the last word as a child might.

"I know Britt Britt, but I'll be there sooner than you can say 'unicorn,'" Santana winked and kissed the tip of her nose in farewell before grabbing her coat and walking out the door, calling goodbyes to her family.

* * *

><p>"Remind me again why we chose this place as our super-fun-mostly-gay-meet-up-spot?"<p>

"Because, _Kurt_," Brittany said exasperatedly, emphasizing the solitary syllable of his name, "it's fun."

"If you consider burly men with no fashion sense and a penchant for kiddie porn to be fun, then yes, I suppose so. At least there's karaoke tonight, and we can laugh at all the drunk girls singing Taylor Swift songs about the men who don't love them."

Both Rachel and Brittany grinned, knowing Kurt's prediction would undoubtedly come true before the night was over. Feedback over the microphone caused them all to cover their ears for a moment, before realizing a member of their party was still MIA.

"Britt, where's Santana?"

"She had to run to the store to get medicine for her a-boo-ayyy-luh," Rachel responded for her, butchering the Latina's native language with a distinctive lack of pronunciation skills.

Someone appeared on the stage, saving the table from any other Spanish phrases Rachel might hope to slide into the conversation, announcing the beginning of karaoke night at the bar they so often had come to frequent. It was still early on, so no performers were nearly intoxicated enough to be truly entertaining, and the three easily tuned the music out, focusing instead on making plans for the New Year. Rachel was determined that this would be the year she won her first award for a Broadway performance, and Kurt was nearly as adamant about finding a new man, finally having moved on from Blaine after a long distance relationship strained what they had developed in high school.

"This goes out to a special someone," they caught, the words barely audible, despite the sound system. "Brittany S. Pierce." There was a murmur through the crowd as several customers misheard the name, excited over the potential of having the pop star in their midst with a full head of hair. Brittany looked up and saw seated on stage Santana, guitar in hand, a look of confidence covering her caramel skin and serenity in her eyes. The Latina however was internally shaking and worried her fingers would stumble over the chords she'd worked so diligently on perfecting.

Soft notes filled the bar, and the air stilled throughout the room. Sapphire eyes locked on cinnamon, and the rest of the world faded out as Santana's mouth opened, words spilling over her lips effortlessly, as Brittany's mind flitted back and forth between the present, and the first time they were together, five years ago in high school.

_We got the afternoon, you got this room for two._

_One thing I've left to do - discover me, discovering you._

_One mile to every inch of your skin like porcelain, _

_One pair of candy lips and your bubblegum tongue.  
><em>

The blonde sat stock still on her bar stool, recalling the first touches of Santana's fingertips on her skin. She remembered feeling as though her whole body were buzzing, urging her towards the warmth of caramel skin. The feeling hadn't changed.

_'Cause if you want love - we'll make it._

_Swimming a deep sea of blankets._

_Take all your big plans, and break 'em._

_This is bound to be a while._

As the chorus echoed through the small space, Brittany noticed everyone around her was swaying lightly in time with the song, with simultaneously watching her silent exchanges with Santana.

_Something 'bout the way the hair falls in your face_

_I love the shape you take when crawling towards the pillowcase_

_You tell me where to go and though I might leave to find it_

_I'll never let your head hit the bed without my hand behind it_

Eyes shut, the songbird perched on the stool on the stage was nearing the end of her performance, nerves wrecked. She did her best to finish strong, keeping the worry in her chest from seeping through her words.

_Damn baby, you frustrate me._

_I know you're mine, all mine, all mine but you look so good it hurts sometimes._

Brittany couldn't help but giggle, as the song drew to a close. Her heart swelled with a mixture of happiness and pride as Santana received more applause than anyone at their table was expecting. She gingerly set down the guitar and hopped off the stage into waiting arms.

"I love you," were the words hushed into the dark sheath of hair splayed down the singer's back.

"Marry me," she replied simply.

Brittany pulled back, her eyebrows pulled together, creating lines across her forehead. "What?"

Panic gripped the already barely pumping muscle in Santana's chest, but she pushed it down, knowing the words would be stuck in her throat forever if they didn't escape within the next few moments. "Britt, do you remember how when we were little, all you drank was orange juice? Like, every day?" A nod and small smile nudged her to continue. "There's a phrase, in Spanish. 'Tu eres mi media naranja.' Literally it means you are my half orange, but it also means soulmate. I've loved you in almost every way I can imagine Brittany Pierce. You are my best friend, my lover, and my half orange. Marry me. Make me whole."


	14. Marry Me

Santana could feel every eye in the bar burning holes into her back. She felt as if blisters were forming underneath the fabric of her sweater, and a sweat broke over her skin. Her hands shook as she watched a wave cover Brittany's eyes, each tide bringing a new distinct emotion, pulling it away quickly as another rolled over her features.

Her mouth obviously as cottony as Santana felt hers was, the slender blonde pulled caramel hands to meet her milky white, whispering, just audibly, "Can we go outside?" The petite girl, now feeling infinitely smaller, simply nodded, holding back the crests of tears dancing on her eyelashes.

The cold air hit Santana's warmed face, and the tear stains froze caramel skin, instantly stopping any other stragglers from thinking they could make their way down her cheeks.

"I love you, you know that right?" Brittany's plea was met with silence. "Honey, please say you know that." Shivering, Santana nodded once more. "I just - after the other night - do you think we're ready?"

"It was one fight Britt. We've fought before."

"But, what if I did something?" She whispered, speaking to the ground. "What if I did something that would make you not love me anymore?"

Santana's eyes widened, and she shook her repeatedly, as if trying to fling the words that were running through her head out into the cold winter air. "Britt, you, you didn't. You couldn't have. Did you?"

In one swift motion, fists connected to long arms hit the brick wall behind them, and a slender blonde crumpled to the ground in sobs. "I-I don't know. I don't remember anything. But I know how it must look, and I can see how everyone stares at me and doesn't say anything about my eye, and I just - I don't know. I shouldn't have left. I'm so sorry baby. You have no idea."

Sliding to the ground to cradle the sobbing blonde in her arms, Santana cooed and rocked her until the tears were merely whimpers and the anxiety coursing through her had faded to a softer ache. "I will always love you. The offer still stands you know. One night doesn't change the past five years. It doesn't change what I hope for over the next sixty either."

Brittany's eyebrows knit together, and Santana continued, remembering the conversation she'd had with Quinn, which felt eons from where she was now. "I want to grow old with you Britt Britt, and I want everything that goes along with that. A house with a porch, and kids, and a dog, and a two car garage, and school field trips, and packing lunches - all of it. I want all of it, with you. I can't imagine doing those things with anyone other than you. But you don't have to answer now, if you need time to think about it. I would understand," she finished, shrugging her shoulders, hoping it gave off the air of indifference she didn't truly possess.

A long silence settled over the two women, both studying the other intently. Brittany's nimble fingers manipulated Santana's absentmindedly, but she never broke eye contact, hoping to find something unsaid behind the long dark lashes. "Well, do I get a ring if I say yes?" she joked, letting loose a smile that was enough to light up the city for blocks.

* * *

><p>They elected to go straight home after sticking their heads in to say goodbye to Kurt and Rachel, and walked slowly down the streets, enjoying each others company. Brittany couldn't keep her eyes from straying to her ring finger, the blue jewel picking up what seemed to be each and every light within a ten mile radius. A grin crept across Santana's lips as she caught the long glances the blonde kept stealing at her ring. A flush covered Brittany's cheeks as she realized how she was being watched, and she smiled back at her fiancee.<p>

"That sounds nice you know."

"What does Britt Britt?"

"Fiancee," she whispered, squeezing the woman's hand. Walking the rest of the way to the apartment in silence, hands interlocked, they couldn't help but feel the slight buzzing falling off of both of their bodies. Quickly unlocking the front door as they approached it, Santana pulled Brittany through the threshold of their home, immediately pinning her to the nearest wall, breathing heavily.

Wild abandon coursed through their veins, completely unaware of their surroundings as they focused on nothing but each other. Goosebumps covering every inch of her skin, Santana's hands found their way under Brittany's many layers, following familiar trails with her fingertips as she pulled a plump bottom lip between her teeth, eliciting an avoidable moan to slip through both of their mouths, mingling in the air between them before mixing with other sounds coming from the direction of the living room.

"Santana?" Her mother's voice echoed through the small apartment, and the two women could sense what seemed to be an edge of panic laced within her soft accent.

"Si Mami. Un momento por favor." She kissed Brittany's swollen bottom lip, and fixed their clothing before walking hand in hand to find her family seated on the couch, with two police officers standing in front of the fireplace. "Um, Papi? Abuela? Lo que es esto?"

"Ma'am, we just need to ask a few questions." He gestured towards Brittany before addressing her directly. "I'm assuming you are Ms. Pierce?"

The tall blonde nodded, gripping Santana's hard just a bit harder. "What can I help you with sir?"

"We have reports of a situation you may or may not have been involved in, and your name was mentioned during questioning. Where were you the night of December 24th, just this past week?"

"I honestly don't remember sir." He paused, giving her a quizzical look before she continued. "I went to the bar right around the corner, Bob's, but from what I remember, I only had two drinks. I - I, um - " She looked toward Santana for a clue as to whether or not to continue.

"You what, Ms. Pierce?"

"I found her in the park around three in the morning, covered in dirt and blood. That's why her eye is so dark, so if you would kindly stop staring, we'd all appreciate it." Santana's mother reached up to take her free hand, but the fiery Latina had little patience with authority figures, particularly ones who were interrogating her fiancee. "She doesn't remember what happened."

"Is there any possibility someone put something in your drink ma'am?" The thought hadn't crossed either of their minds, so Brittany merely shrugged. "Well, due to the sensitive nature of this case, and your lack of memory from the night in question, I'm going to have to ask you to accompany us."

Santana's flip switched, and it took all she had not to pull out Lima Heights Lopez from her back pocket. "And why in the hell should she have to go with you? She didn't **do **anything."

"Ms. Lopez, I honestly shouldn't be disclosing this, but on Christmas Eve, a woman was .. raped, at the bar your girlfriend - "

"Fiancee," she cut back.

"Your fiancee, I apologize, was in. We're merely concerned for her safety, and want to have a kit done, on the off chance that something did occur that night."

Santana's head was swimming, and she held tight to the cool, smooth hand beneath her fingers as her only source of a life line. The words around her were muddled, and she felt herself slipping away into thoughts that wouldn't serve her sanity, until she heard Brittany's crisp, clear voice breaking through her dusty neurons.

"Can she come with me? I really don't think - " The officer simply nodded, and turned to Santana's family to thank them for the cooperation before exiting behind the two women.

Barely breathing as they got into the car to follow the cops to the hospital, Brittany interlaced her milky fingers with caramel ones, her engagement ring sparkling against the street lights, as her eyes often did. "I'm fine baby, I promise. We'll be fine."


	15. I Only Want to Be Alone

Patience was not a virtue Santana Lopez posessed. This obvious characteristic was evident when she stood in line at the grocery store, waited for a call back from someone, or grew bored of small talk at parties. She tapped her foot, huffed, and checked her watch repeatedly, hoping the small bursts of energy would make the time past just a millisecond more quickly. However, her impatience was painfully obvious to everyone in the hospital waiting room as she paced the floor so frequently the nurses were afraid she would wear the tile out beneath her feet.

She wasn't sure what was taking so long, as all that the doctor on call divulged was that it was a simple exam and collection of "specimens," whatever the hell that meant. She paused her pacing momentarily to seriously consider walking outside to bum a cigarette off of someone, because her nerves were shot, but reconsidered, given that Brittany could walk through those double doors at any moment, and she hated the smell of smoke as it clung around Santana's skin.

Her pacing resumed, and with each turn back towards the door, she lifted her eyes up, hoping to see blue ones sparkling back at her, but another half hour had passed, and still no sign of a slender blonde.

"What is taking so long, if you don't mind my asking?" Santana said through gritted teeth, attempting to control her frustration as she approached a woman behind the nurses's station.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry but I can only disclose medical updates to family members."

"She's my fiancee."

"That isn't covered under hospital policy - blood, guardianship, or marriage. That's it. I'm sorry."

"Would it be different if I were a guy? Would Sam Lopez - " she felt a warm hand on her back, and turned to glare at the intruder before softening her gaze as her eyes fell on cream color skin, patches of freckles across high cheekbones, and two blue orbs, wavering slightly. The two women turned without concluding the conversation with the nurse, and Santana reached for Brittany's hand as they walked out of the emergency room doors.

She felt long, thin fingers twitch away before settling in between her caramel ones, and taking hold of Brittany's free arm with her hand, rubbing softly, she caught the blue eyes once more. "Britt, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Everything went okay in there?"

"A little awkward, but fine I guess." Frowning, Santana simply nodded. Fine was not a word that typically was used by her fiancee, and when it was, it hardly ever really meant fine. It meant confused, scared, hurt, angry, or any other of a plethora of negative emotions.

"Okay, well let's go home." Brittany nodded back, caught in her own swirling thoughts, attempting to make sense of everything the doctors had told her.  
><em>There seems to be evidence of what could be trauma. Have you recently had unusually rough intercourse, that could account for the damage?<em>

Santana was soft and tender, never rough in that sense of the word - not rough in a way that could hurt her. But, then again, they experimented plenty, and not every time they slept together was about "making love." There were moments that had been animalistic and filled with lust, but she couldn't remember ever being hurt.

The ride home was silent, and awkward, which their silence never was. It seemed to drag on, and the flurry of emotions crossing Brittany's face did nothing for Santana's nerves. She knew not to press, but something had happened, and her chest literally ached with the pain of not knowing. She didn't know what she could or could not say, and every movement she made ellicited a flinch from her fiancee.

The tall blonde had always been affectionate, to anyone and everyone, particularly Santana. She expressed things more easily through touch than through words, and with the physical ease in their relationship gone, the Latina was unsure of how to go about things.

Pulling into the parking spot in front of their apartment, the tension in the car was broken, and stepping into the street, Santana noticed how it now pervaded the entire city of New York. The common metal of the door knobs were now cold, and almost felt electrified. The soft pillows felt hard and unyielding when they finally fell into bed, and Brittany's body felt like that of a stranger when her lover curled next to her. The warm curves had become jagged, pushing Santana further away.

Losing all familiarity felt like having the floor torn out from underneath her. The world spun slightly off axis, but she said nothing.

"Night Britt Britt. I love you."

"Good night Santana," she replied, devoid of emotion, before pulling away closer towards the edge of the bed. Despite her attempts at tenderness, Brittany shut her further out, and she wasn't at all sure of how to handle it. As much as she would deny it later, a solitary thought of Finn floated through her head, and a song he'd sang in Glee, as far away as that seemed from the moment at hand.

"B?" She received no reply, but she heard uneven breathing, a giveaway that Brittany had not yet fallen asleep. "Oh, why you look so sad?" she whispered, the song not yet fully reaching her lips. "The tears are in your eyes; come on and come to me now."

Despite facing opposite directions, she felt a shift of weight in the bed, and knew she was being heard. She continued, a little louder, with the waver still evident in her words as she began softly singing. 

_Don't be ashamed to cry_

_Let me see you through_

_Cause I've seen the dark side too_

_When the night falls on you_

_You don't know what to do_

_Nothing you confess_

_Could make me love you less_

_I'll stand by you_

_I'll stand by you_

_Won't let nobody hurt you_

The bed shifted again, this time more violently. Tears were streaming down her face, but the look in Brittany's eyes was not just sadness; they held a touch of anger as well.

"But you did!" she all but bellowed, sending a shiver down Santana's spine. "You let them hurt me. You, you let them hurt me," she repeated, the second time a bit lower. "You've always protected me. Why now? Why let him hurt me? What did I do to deserve that?"

A wave of recognition washed over Santana's features, but words still managed to be elusive.

"I'm going to sleep on the couch. Good night Santana. Sleep well."

She wouldn't be, not in this cold, unfamiliar bed, now ridden with unsaid thoughts and unshed tears. Curled up with Brittany's pillow, hoping to catch the elusive mix of scents that was her lover, she closed her eyes, holding back the tears that were bound to fall, and whispered, "_I'll stand by you._"


	16. Crash and Burn

Rolling over, Santana glanced at the clock, the harsh red lights burning her already sore, puffy eyes. Until she heard screaming again, she was unsure as to why she had suddenly woken up, despite her sleep being a fitful mess combined with an infinite number of nightmares. Her neighbors fought a lot when they had first moved in, but it had been a while since the latest blow up. She grabbed a jacket off of the floor, planning on knocking next door to ask that they either hold it down or have angry sex. Hell, if it shut them up, she had no problem with both being done.

She opened the bedroom door quietly, hoping the rest of the household would still be sleeping soundly, but found that not only was the screaming much louder, but her abuela was awake, standing in the doorway to the living room, leaning against the frame, her arms folded.

"Santana, necessito dormir. Lo que es esto?"  
>"Las personas que viven al lado de nos, yo pienso." <em>The people next door.<em> It was always the people next door.  
>"No, su rubia. Que pasa?" <em>Your blonde.<em>

Slowly making her way across the room, her grandmother's inquiries made sense. Brittany was thrashing on the couch, drenched in sweat, her eyes shut tightly closed, fighting demons only she could see. Santana gingerly sat on the edge of the worn fabric, placing a tentative hand on her fiancee's back. No harm coming to her, she leaned forward, whispering shushing noises and repeating "it's okay" again and again. She traced the freckled features, continuing the calming noises, hoping the actions would ease Brittany's body.

A sudden motion caught the barely conscious woman offguard, as hand connected with the side of her face, the new engagement ring taking the skin off of Santana's cheek as it grazed her bone.

"It's **not **okay. I said no," slipped out through gritted teeth and tense lips.

Any tears that had been left came flooding out, despite the Latina's belief that she couldn't possibly have any more water in her body to let loose. Looking up at her grandmother, Santana saw her pain reflected in the older woman's features, silent streams gracing her cheeks as well.

"I'll make some tea."  
>"Yo no la puedo salir."<br>"Estancia." _Stay._

Seeing that Brittany's body had calmed down significantly, Santana scooted nearer her, rubbing her back. Not long after, her abuela walked into the living room, holding two mugs of peppermint tea, something she had given her granddaughter anytime she was upset, particularly after waking from bad dreams. The scent caused the sleeping blonde's nose to twitch, and she rolled over, blinking her eyes several times to regain awareness of her surroundings.

She felt the difference in firmness of the pillow behind her head, and the fleece of the blanket covering her body, realizing she was not in fact in bed, but on the couch, somewhere she very rarely slept.

"Tana?" she all but croaked. Her voice was heavy with sleep, and her throat felt raw, as though it had been replaced with sandpaper. Full words seemed far from reach, and she wasn't sure whether it was because she physically felt unable to speak or because she felt awful for blowing up on the one person who had always taken the time to be there for her.

Turning towards the sound, Santana softly caressed the side of her lover's face, holding back further tears from falling. Brittany reached up, and gingerly brushed against the slightly swollen gash marring the face she knew so well. The body connected to that cut flinched, and pulled away.

"Did I - I'm sorry."

"You don't have any reason to be sorry Britt Britt. I do. I should have tried harder to find you. I should have done more. I should have been there to protect you."

Silent tears fell down already tearstained cheeks, and Santana took hold of the hand on her cheek, and lay down on the couch next to Brittany, but felt her twitch beside her, like she had done at the hospital.

"I'm sorry," she whispered again.

"I'm not going to hurt you B, I'm not ever going to hurt you. I will do everything in my power to keep you safe, from this day forward. That ring was a promise, a promise of that and so much more." With that, she kissed her forehead, and sat up, reaching for her still warm cup of tea, handing the other to Brittany. "When you're comfortable enough to come back to bed, I'll be waiting. Minutes, days, months - I'll wait."

"Santana?"

"Yeah baby?"

"Can you stay with me, until I fall back asleep?" The smaller girl nodded, placing her tea on the side table, making a note to remember to take the second mug into the kitchen with her own. Resuming her original place on the edge of the couch, she began rubbing soft circles into Brittany's back, humming absent mindedly as she felt the body beneath her fingers relax considerably. She was snatched from her thoughts by a voice she had never grown tired of hearing.

"What are you singing?"

"Oh, nothing. Just humming."

"Can you sing it? It sounds pretty." Santana nodded again, not removing her hand from Brittany's back as she took a breath and began softly singing the words floating through her head, a song that preceded a lot of proposing back when the two women were just girls in high school.  
><em><br>__The first time ever I saw your face, I thought the sun rose in your eyes.  
>And the moon and stars were the gifts you gave,<br>To the dark and the endless sky, my love.  
><em>  
>Smiling in remembrance of the song, Brittany's eyelids felt much heavier as her body relaxed more than it had since they arrived at the hospital.<p>

_And the first time ever I kissed your mouth,  
>I felt the earth move through my hands.<br>Like the trembling heart of a captive bird  
>That was there at my command.<em>

Santana's heart swelled as she began the next verse, the same one she had sang that year in high school, for Mr. Schuester's impending proposal to their school counselor.

_And the first time ever I lay with you,  
>I felt your heart so close to mine.<br>And I know our joy would fill the earth,  
>And last till the end of time, my love.<em>

With that, she felt the last of Brittany's strength falling into the cushions of the couch, her breathing slowed considerably, and a slight smile playing on her face. Unable to pull herself away, Santana crawled onto the cushions and secured an arm around her fiancee's slender waist. A genuine smile graced her features when she heard Brittany sigh and snuggle backwards into Santana's body. Maybe it could all be okay.


	17. Remember the Love

_Her world had been broken. Some nameless, faceless asshole had shattered the fairly pristine world Brittany had grown accustomed to, the world that Santana had worked so hard to preserve. Despite their age, the blonde still found magic in every day; she stilled believe in unicorns and doubted that Santa was in fact not real; she wished on eyelashes, birthday candles, shooting stars, and 11:11, both in the morning and at night. All of these things that others found grating, Santana found the most endearing of all. She loved Brittany's innocence, and it was that child-like wonder that had drawn the two together in the first place. It meant on occasion, the young Latina, emboldened by a love she had still yet to find adequate words for, could play the role of protector. Santana, however, would be the first to admit that she never imagined she would be unable to shield Brittany from something such as this. She had always felt as if both of their fates rested firmly in her hands, in her control, and the events of the past few weeks had shown her that was not in fact so. In one night, Santana's world was rocked, and Brittany's, broken. _

"Santana?" she whispered. "Please wake up." The Latina barely stirred, the only indication of her semi-consciousness being a change in her breathing only the blonde staring down at her worriedly would notice. "Baby, please."

The urgency in her voice roused Santana, and she rolled over to meet soft blue eyes, widened in slight alarm. "What Britt-Britt? Are you okay?" she replied, matching the panic reflected in the eyes staring down at her.

Brittany giggled lightly at the doe-eyed, sleep deprived woman beneath her, before carefully choosing the words to continue with. "You were, um – well you were –"

"Oh god, don't tell me I was snoring. I'm sorry. I probably sound like an elephant."

Laughing again, this time the light not quite reaching her eyes, the corners of her lips straightened out, leaving her mouth in a flat line, her eyebrows furrowed to match. "You kept muttering in your sleep, asking them not to take someone – not to take 'her.'"

"Oh," was the single syllable that fell from the Latina's lips. No explanation was given either, but her mind made a detour back to the thoughts previously rushing through her. Her cheeks flushed, and she looked down, avoiding the blonde's blatant staring.

"Who is she? The her you didn't want them to take?" Santana quickly realized that she needed to diffuse this situation before it blew up in her face; the girl once so confident in their love was falling apart quickly, and had jumped to the worst possible assumption – that it was a different woman the Latina had been crying out for, attempting to save in her most vulnerable state.

"It was you. It has always been you Britt. You are the answer to every question in my life. Don't ever think any differently."

Pulling the leggy blonde toward her, they slipped into a more comfortable silence as Santana brushed the worry lines away from her freckled features, and though she flinched occasionally, the Latina could feel her lover fighting through the fear of her touch. Both women heard the bedroom door opening, but ignored it, figuring in the early hour, it would only be someone on their way to the hallway bathroom. However, moments later, the two lying on the couch looked up to see Santana's mother leaning over them, dark circles prominent under sparkling brown eyes that looked dull in the grey morning light.

"Mija, puedes hablar conmigo?"

"Si Mami," she replied, standing from the couch after placing a soft kiss on Brittany's forehead.

"Your abuela and your father are packing now. Our flight leaves this afternoon," the elder Latina said, not bothering to skirt around the subject.

"Pero, porque Mami?" The younger girl had a frown tugging at her features. "You were going to stay until New Year's."

"It is best if we leave I think, to give you and Brittany time to, to work things out. Our decision has been made Santana. I'm sorry mi carina, but I really do think it's best." Her daughter merely nodded, though the thought of being alone again with her fiancée scared the hell out of her. It was something she normally celebrated, craved even, but with the precariously emotional state the fractured blonde was in, it was a feat that seemed beyond daunting. "We're going to take a taxi to the airport, so you won't have to worry about us, okay mija?" Lightly running a finger over the cut on Santana's cheek, her daughter nodded again, not entirely settled with the idea, but unwillingly and currently unable to fight her mother on the idea.

Her mother walked back to help the two elder Lopez family members with the packing, and Santana turned toward the kitchen, hoping that cooking a breakfast large enough for ten people would give her some time to sort through the flurry of thoughts she seemed unable to escape.

_"Santana, please, it will be okay."_

"No Britt, it won't. Everyone is going to find out about us."

"And what's so wrong with that?"

"My parents will hate me, and god, my abuela? We'll never escape the teasing from everyone at school – the bullying. You remember what happened to Kurt. When that commercial runs, my life is over."

Pulling her into a warm embrace, Brittany tried calming her girlfriend's beating heart and shaking limbs, but Santana's mind was running wild with every possibility imaginable – being slushied, pushed into lockers, teased mercilessly; her brain then flew to a never ending cycle of slurs that could be used against the two of them. The slender blonde pressed a soft kiss to Santana's temple, whispering reassuring words into her ear, and caressing the long locks of raven hair that flowed down the back of her Cheerios uniform. Not one touch could calm the storm beneath the jet black curls – once Santana's mind took over, there was no hope of bringing her back.

A light pressure on her shoulder blade dragged her firmly back into the present, and she turned to capture sharp brown eyes looking back into her own.

"Debe salir. Es rota y no la puede fijar." _She's broken. You can't fix her._

"I'm not leaving Abuela. I can't leave her."

"You have to, Santana. It's what's best."

"I'm getting really sick of hearing that. No one knows what is best for us except Brittany and I, and I'm not leaving her. She needs me."

"This isn't what you are meant to do Santana. You were not born to take care of some broken woman, you were –"

"Born to love her," the younger woman replied, a trace of anger flushing her words. "Clearly, what you've shown in the past week wasn't support, or acceptance. I'm not even sure it was tolerance. You still want me to leave her, marry some tall, dark, and handsome man, and live happily ever after in a lifestyle you are comfortable with. It's not happening. She is my fairytale."

With that, she turned back to the stove, trying again to focus her attention on the multitude of pots and pans in front of her. The pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon were sizzling in front of her, mimicking her boiling frustration with her grandmother. The repetitive flipping and stirring kept her mind as clear as she could manage, and she flipped on the radio near the coffee maker as she set a pot to brew, hoping singing might distract her thoughts just a bit more.

Mindlessly humming along, she was lost in her actions until she felt another pressure on her back, lower this time. She turned to find herself meeting blue eyes this time, softly smiling. While not quite as bright as she was accustomed to, they still held a light that had not yet been dimmed. Brittany wrapped her arms around Santana's waist, pulling her closer, though not as close as she typically would have.

_I won't run, I won't fly  
>I will never make it by<br>Without you, without you  
>I can't rest, I can't fight<br>All I need is you and I_

They slowly turned in the kitchen, Santana's hands clasped tightly around her fiancee's neck, holding on to her with everything she possessed. Brittany sang softly to the smaller woman in her arms, her voice wavering, but the words ringing true. After flipping all of the switches on the stove off, a warm hand cupped the Latina's cheek, thumb flittering above the gash on her bone.

"I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be."

"I heard your abuela."

"I'm not leaving."

"You should listen to her."

"I am not leaving." Looking up into cloudy blue eyes, Santana kissed her forehead, and speaking along with the end of the song, whispered resolutely, "I will never be the same without you."

Pulling back slightly, Brittany locked eyes with the Latina once more, her words barely audible. "Do you think we can get through this?"

Smiling, and remembering words from years ago that she often quoted, reminding Brittany of their beginning, she nodded. "I love you more than I have ever loved anyone else in this world. All I know about you and I, is because of that, I think anything is possible."


	18. Wondering Where You Are

Author's Note: I want to thank everyone for reading, and to all of you who have reviewed – extra thanks! Haha. **In a conversation between Brittany and another character, there is a reference to Heather Morris's drunk mermaid video. Well worth watching – I encourage it actually.  
><strong>Also, I want to apologize for the delay in getting this chapter up. I had a pretty crazy week, and I know I haven't been updating as regularly as I was. So, extra long chapter for you guys - right around 3,000 words. :) 

* * *

><p><em>Hot water trailed every inch of my aching body and I watched the suds float down my chest, stomach, and legs, finally pooling and disappearing at my feet. My thoughts fluttered to the shower next to me, to the scented bubbles there caressing Brittany's every curve, imagining the rivers of intermingled soap and water to be my own fingers, dancing across her hips, resting in the crook of her neck, pooling in delicate collarbones, wrapping around a small waist. Regretfully, I stepped from the heat to change and gather my Cheerios bag, homebound.<em>

Exiting the locker room, I felt a pinky link with my own. I turned meet sparkling sapphire eyes and a smile that frequently made me weak in the knees. "Finally, just us." The light contained in that smile multiplied, if at all possible. "Just us."

* * *

><p>Just us. Terror gripped Santana's chest as she watched her family pull away. Looking to her left, she saw an expression that mirrored her own reflecting back on freckled features. Pulling her jacket tighter around a shaking body, the fabric on her skin was the only tether she had to reality. Nodding towards the door, both women left the bitter wind outside, only to find the chill managed to sneak in through the cracks around the door. They stood opposite each other, unspeaking and painfully aware that the comfort and familiarity of their relationship had been taken from them. Unable to handle the tension building, Santana headed in the direction of the kitchen, hoping a mug of hot chocolate would defrost the coldness surrounding the two women.<p>

"Santana?" The Latina stuck her head around the open doorway, leaning into the living room where she found Brittany sprawled out on the couch, under a pile of blankets. "It's New Year's Eve Eve." Raising her eyebrows, the unspoken question spread across her face, the shivering blonde continued. "Our Disney movie marathon tradition? Can we do it?"

Hearing the microwave go off, Santana nodded, smiling, and grabbed the two now scalding mugs, being sure to put extra marshmallows in Brittany's. She crossed the living room quickly, placing the cups on the coffee table, and went to light the fire before grabbing the first movie they watched every year, The Lion King.

_"Simba's a baby. It's new beginnings Santana. Think about it. It's just like the new year. He is starting his life, and we get a chance to start again."_

Brittany, as simple minded as some people thought her to be, managed to come up with tidbits of wisdom like that from time to time, and these rare moments never ceased to amaze her fiancée. That one in particular, from their freshman year of high school, had stuck with Santana for a while, and now it seemed like a new beginning, a fresh start, was exactly what the couple needed. It was just a matter of determining how exactly to go about doing so.

Curling up on the couch after slipping the movie into the DVD player, the pair spent the rest of the afternoon and majority of the evening sitting quietly on the couch, barely speaking, or touching, but comfortable. As she stifled a yawn, Santana stretched upward, preparing to pull her limbs from the warmth of the cocoon of blankets. Knowing she would kick herself if she woke up to a sink of dirty dishes, she managed to convince her legs to walk toward the kitchen, making quick work of the mess in front of her. She sighed, and yawned again, before giving in to the exhaustion wracking her body and making zombie-like motions in the direction of the bedroom.

Even standing up, she was drifting off, so she stripped down to her underwear and a t-shirt before crawling into bed without much thought. Subconsciously, she cuddled into Brittany's side of the bed, hoping to fall asleep another night with the blonde's familiar scent tickling her nose.

"Do you really like having the bed to yourself so much that you'd push me off?" The mirth in the question was impossible to miss. Being the first thing spoken in hours, Santana's eyes opened slowly, not wanting to break what could all be an illusion. But her chocolate eyes met blue orbs, and she smiled shyly.

"You're gonna have to sleep on the couch from now on. I need more room to stretch out," she joked back, earning an appreciative smile at the lack of questioning in regards to her sudden reappearance in their bedroom.

"I missed your warmth. I feel safer when you're next to me - safer and stronger. So, is this okay?"

"Honey, it's more than okay," the Latina replied lovingly, pulling Brittany close and for the first time in almost a week, inhaling the scent she'd spend hours searching for on the pillowcases of their queen bed. The scent was there, and it didn't seem as though it was going anywhere.

* * *

><p>Santana woke up to the vibrations her phone was echoing off of the nightstand. Reluctantly pulling away from the sweetly slumbering blonde in her arms, she reached for her phone to stop the incessant buzzing.<p>

"Lucy Quinn Fabray. Do you know what time it is?" she grumbled, sitting up and stretching her limbs.

"Nearly noon. Get your ass out of bed Lopez."

"Give me one good reason to abandon the warmth of these sheets and the hot blonde I have underneath them."

"I'm at your front door, and I'm freezing. Good enough for you?" she replied cheekily, already anticipating the Santana's response. The front door flew open, and the small blonde woman found herself enveloped in a bone crushing embrace. There was something desperate in the hug, something that almost seemed pleading. "You okay honey?" she asked upon being released. "I feel like I've missed something. Something pretty big, by the looks of the dark circles under your eyes."

Pulling her into the apartment, Santana nodded, and continued toward the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee for the two to share. Quinn hopped onto the counter, a place she'd come to frequent during their heart-to-hearts. "Britt and I have just been having some issues lately. It's not a big deal."

The blonde perched near the sink hummed, not sure if the response was entirely honest. "Trouble in Sapphic paradise I see?"

"I don't know if I should tell you Q. It's affecting me, sure, but I'm not the one who – "

"Who what, baby?" Santana whipped around to see Brittany leaning against the door frame, stifling a yawn. Her eyes refocused a bit to a spot over the Latina's shoulder, before she barreled through the small kitchen, and picked the smaller blonde off of the counter, wrapping her in a bear hug and spinning her around.

"Hello to you too Britt," Quinn said, laughing. "I'm sorry I missed Disney night. I was kind of looking forward to your interpretation of The Little Mermaid again. Were any wine glasses broken last night?"

Laughing, Brittany shook her head, and placed the smaller blonde back on the counter before turning toward her fiancée and resting her chin on Santana's shoulder. "Coffee smells good babe," she whispered, and looked back at their friend on the counter. "So what were you two talking about?"

Both women scrambled for words, but found themselves coming short. "Nothing really, Britt-Britt, we were just catching up. But it seems I neglected to tell our good friend Ms. Fabray over here about a certain karaoke night just a few days ago. Do you think you could fill her in?" The distraction did exactly what Santana hoped for. Brittany's eyes sparkled as she looked from Quinn to her fiancée, dragging out the moment as long as she could bear.

She pulled away from the warmth of Santana's back, unwrapping her arms from the slender waist in front of her own. Not so discreetly using her left hand to pull a few strands of hair away from the Latina's face, the sapphire ring flashed in the light, catching Quinn's attention immediately.

"You finally fucking proposed and can't even call me? Oh my god. I am simultaneously incredibly angry and very, very excited! I'm so proud of you, Santana!" The last comment earned her a momentary glare before a bright smile crept across the woman's face. The couple felt themselves pulled into Quinn's arms, and gladly squeezed back. "When is it going to be? What are your colors? Have you looked at a venue?"

"We haven't talked about any of that yet. It's still a lot to wrap our heads around. But, there was something we _have _discussed," Brittany grinned. "Q, would you want to be our maid of – " With a squeal, the blonde flew back into their arms, nodding happily.

"I would love to."

* * *

><p>"I can't wear that. Never in my life could I wear something like that." The blonde's face was contorted into a look of sheer terror as she gaped at herself in the mirror.<p>

"Oh, come on Quinn. You'd look so pretty!"

"She would look _smoking_," Santana corrected, laughing at the panic etched across her best friend's features. "Seriously Q, just balls up and wear the dress." The dress in question was a sage green, form fitting one, nothing like the baby doll dresses the small blonde was accustomed to. It was the fifth outfit her friends had pulled from their closets for her, and it was nearly time to leave, so Santana's patience was wearing thin.

Quinn sighed, giving in to the cajoling. Brittany clapped excitedly, and her fiancée couldn't help but grin. Having their best friend in town was doing wonders for the blonde's spirits, and the change was more than appreciated.

Brittany, however, noticed the residual worry evident on the petite blonde's face and laced their hands together, giving the slender fingers a gentle squeeze. Quinn's body relaxed considerably, her teeth releasing the bottom lip they'd held prisoner. Grabbing her by the shoulders, Santana shook her friend side to side, successfully loosening any leftover nerves from the small frame before pulling both blondes toward the front door and what she knew would be a night to remember.

* * *

><p>Every year, the majority of their high school glee club gathered in New York to ring in the new year. It was never the same collection of friends because of school, work schedules, and finances, but Rachel and Kurt had still taken it upon themselves to host the party each year since Burt had offered a spacious loft to his son while he finished his musical theater degree. The apartment was minimally furnished which gave everyone more than enough room for drunken karaoke and beer pong competitions.<p>

Clutching tightly to their coats, the three women chattered amongst themselves, the crowded streets and bright lights increasing their excitement with each step. Taking a final right turn, the girls found themselves looking at Puck, who had managed to come into town for the first time since their freshman year. He was leaning against a brick wall to the left of the front door, coolly puffing on a cigar. Quinn and Brittany pulled him into tight hugs and after the taller blonde kissed a caramel cheek, the pair wandered inside to see who else had made it. Pointing to the cigar tucked tightly between the tall man's lips, Santana smirked. "Some things never change, do they Puckerman?"

"You've got room to talk Lopez," he laughed, nodding toward the door Brittany had just disappeared through. "I was kind of hoping you'd come back to the dark side, no matter how hot it is to think about the two of you – "

Feigning offense, the Latina hit his arm, and he grinned sheepishly in return. "Don't even go there _Noah_." He pulled her into his side, squeezing her lovingly, before nudging her toward the door.

"Everyone is inside, and we all know Santana Lopez came to _gets her drink on_," he joked, mocking the Lima Heights accent she used on occasion in high school. She grinned back in his direction before making her way through the door and being bombarded with greetings in every direction. She took note that nearly everyone was there. It was still rather calm, with everyone sitting around on couches and bar stools, as the alcohol hadn't started flowing too quickly yet. Brittany was perched on the countertop of the bar, much like her blonde counterpart had been this morning, and after fixing two mixed drinks, Santana brought one to her fiancée before settling happily in between her legs to watch the conversations around them unfold.

It wasn't long until Mike convinced Brittany with a few shots to abandon her place on the bar and begin dancing with him; the rest of the group had not yet followed suit though Kurt begrudgingly put on rap music with enough bass to rattle the windows. Santana stood back, sipping her drink, and people watching. It was a habit of hers, and had served her well in the past. Sam was there, as was Mercedes, and they seemed to be deep in conversation on one of the few Ikea couches in the living room. Blaine had joined Glee's two resident dancers, though his sloppy moves did nothing to compliment the smooth motions the other two had perfected. Quinn had gone back into the kitchen to fix a few more drinks, and Rachel had followed her, bubbling over with enthusiasm over her latest audition that Santana was sure the blonde had little interest in.

Though she tried to feign disinterest with the party in general, her eyes continually flit back to Brittany's writhing body, and her own physical discomfort at how far apart the two were. She felt her limbs involuntarily drawing her across the room, and she abandoned her drink on a table while making her way toward the lithe body her eyes had trained themselves on. Sudden heat rushed over her as she met Brittany, and the strong, familiar arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer toward the pulsing beat moving through the blonde's core, entangling her in every sensation. They moved together in sync, perfectly mirroring the music thumping through the speakers, the rest of the world tuned out as they focused on nothing more than each other and their bodies moving as one.

"You look breathtaking tonight," Santana mouthed, not letting her eyes unlock from the sapphire ones in front of her. "I am so lucky to call you mine."

Brittany grabbed her hand, pulling her quickly out of the room and into the small hallway where the music did not quite reach its full volume. The Latina's body flinched at the sudden lack of contact, but her core was more than satisfied when the contact was resumed, and Santana found herself pressed up against a wall with warm lips upon her own. "I want you. Now." The four words rattled her breathing and a wave of butterflies threatened to burst out of her chest. Moving on autopilot, she felt her hand pulled again, this time towards the guest bedroom, one, admittedly, they had utilized more than once.

Falling back onto the bed, something felt off. Brittany was drunk, that was obvious, and her motions were unlike Santana had ever witnessed – rough, disjointed, and desperate. Within the moment it took her to realize this, the blonde had her half naked, and was working at removing her underwear. The Latina grabbed both her cheeks, and forced their eyes to lock.

"Talk to me."

"I don't want to talk. I want you. I need you." Even her words were disjointed, and rather the opposite of the often melodic tone that usually fell from the lips of the blonde, who's whole life played out in musical notes – each breath, each step, and most specifically, each word.

"No." She pushed Brittany away, hoping the distance would help gain some perspective, for both of them, but her partner had other plans. She moved forward again, thinking she could overtake the smaller girl and coax her back into bed. "Britt, stop. Please, stop!" The words shook something in the blonde, and her face nearly crumpled, before setting into a strong mask of anger.

"I get it," she said coolly, pacing the floor in front of Santana, who sat in her bra and underwear, watching the scene fall apart before her. "I'm damaged now, right? You don't want damaged goods, and I don't fucking blame you. You shouldn't want me." A single tear traced her reddened cheeks, and she brushed it away without pausing her incessant pacing.

Santana rose from the bed, and grabbed both hands, holding on tight so she couldn't pull away again. "I want you, but not like this. I want to be with you honestly, and beautifully, and lovingly. Not like this B, never like this."

One hand slipped from Brittany's grip, and snaked around her slender waist, pulling her close. "I want this to be on your terms. I'll never make you do anything you don't want to, okay?" She felt a nod against the top of her head and smiled, leaning up to meet her fiancee's lips. "I'd also like you to be a little sober," she whispered, laughing when she saw Brittany's sheepish smile. "Continue this later?"

**AN: **I have a couple questions. I know a lot of Brittana fans are also fans of Faberry, so should it be a potential relationship, or should I leave well enough alone? Any thoughts or comments are appreciated. Again, thank you so much for reading. I appreciate you all so much. :)


	19. The Night Will Go As Follows

**A/N: I want to thank everyone who has stuck with me thus far. The alerts and reviews brighten my day, and I never dreamed this many people would have read something of my creation. Thanks again.  
>Also, I'd like to apologize for the lateness with this update. Life caught up with me in a big way, as all of my professors are trying to fit in exams and presentations before spring break. Hopefully within the next week or two, y'all should get quite a few updates.<strong>

"I'd also like you to be a little sober," she whispered, laughing when she saw Brittany's sheepish smile. "Continue this later?"

Clutching hands, the two exited the guest room minutes later, nearly running over Quinn on their way out. She cocked an eyebrow, an incredibly familiar gesture, and made to open her mouth before Santana shot her a warning glare. _We'll discuss it later._The petite blonde knew better than to push her friend, and the look on Santana's face only reinforced the idea that what everyone believed to had happened, hadn't in fact. The Glee club was used to the two running off together at parties, even before they were officially together, so no other comments were made, aside from an elbow nudge from Puck, which Quinn quickly returned in a punch to the bicep.

Santana planted a kiss on her fiancee's check before gently nudging her toward the numerous members of the dance floor and ducking out under the pretense of "getting some air." Lighting a cigarette she'd taken from Puck's shirt pocket and clutching a cup of vodka, the Latina heard the door behind her open and shut rather quickly before thin legs unfurled next to her own.

"You know, she hates when you smoke." Santana nodded. "I remember once in high school, when all you would smoke at parties were those awful Black and Milds, and she came crying to me, more drunk than I've ever seen her, whining about how the smell covered up your 'Santana scent.'"

Unable to keep the chuckle from escaping her throat, Santana giggled, a flush creeping across her face at the memory. "I know Q. She told me later that night that even though they smelled pretty, I smelled like a rainbow someone had set on a fire - a _hot rainbow._I guess in Brittany's eyes that is somewhat of a compliment." Quinn leaned over sniffing her friend, and wrinkled her nose, laughing for a moment, before a fresh gust of wind wiped away the lighthearted air of the conversation.

"Lopez, are you going to explain to me what happened? Normally, I wouldn't pry, but I'm going to be here for a few days, and it's hard to pretend like something isn't up. The last time there was this much tension between the two of you, you were _dating _Karofsky." The use of air quotes stung the caramel skin, as a wave of guilt flooded her senses. Santana whispered something, clutching more readily to the cup in her left hand. "What?" She repeated it, but the four words were still inaudible. Quinn pressed again.

"She was raped Q," Santana finally said, no emotion coloring the words.

"If this is some elaborate scheme to get back at me for not visiting enough – "

"I wasn't there. I should have been there, to protect her." Quinn could hear the regret and resignation in the Latina's voice. It was the truth, and neither woman was quite sure how to handle it. The blonde had held firmly to the belief that it was a drunken misunderstanding, but realizing it was far worse, she had no words. She simply nodded and wrapped an arm around the Latina's thin shoulders.

After an uncomfortable moment of silence in which the blonde determined how exactly to approach the situation, Quinn said, the words barely carrying over the night air, "Is she – is she okay?"

"Depends on what definition of the word you want to use. Physically, there is some damage, sure, but they did an STD panel, and she looks clean. She has to go back in a few months to check again, because some take longer to come up or something," she said, shaking her head. "Emotionally though? She was checked out, obviously. I couldn't touch her, or even look at her the wrong way without her exploding."

"It's understandable though sweetie." Quinn paused again, and the quivering Latina immediately took note of the hitch in her voice, and raised her eyebrows. "There's no chance she could be – "

"With everything I have, I hope not. Q, she finally seems like she's getting over this. I mean, Britt's always talked about kids, but this just seems too fucked, you know?" The blonde nodded in response before yanking Santana off of the steps and tossing her cigarette onto the sidewalk. The Latina's body protested at the sudden movement, and she glared at Quinn before allowing herself to be pulled through the front door and into the kitchen to mix two strong drinks. 

* * *

><p>"Santana," Brittany groaned. "You're so far away." The alcohol had hit the lightweight square in the face as she leaned against the doorway of the kitchen and found her fiancee casually sipping from a red cup.<p>

Nearly as intoxicated as the dancer, Quinn giggled. "That's so cute, Brittany _misses you_," she slurred, dragging out the last two words.

Surprisingly enough the most sober of the group, Santana elected to drag the two drunken blondes home after the ball drop, which wasn't too long coming. Quinn had managed to slip out of the kitchen undetected after her comment, and within the moment it took the Latina to consider where she might be, the taller blonde had her pinned against the counter top, her lips covering every free inch of Santana's body. Feeling her body shudder, a light moan escaped her mouth before she heard the noise in the living room turn up a few octaves. The countdown was beginning.

_Ten._ Managing to grab hold of Brittany's hands, the two began to make their way back toward their friends. _Nine. _They both tripped over the carpeted area of the room, stumbling, but not letting their tightly clasped hands loose. _Eight. _Santana arched an eyebrow in her fiancee's direction, nodding toward the front door. _Seven. _The dancer caught a glimpse of short blonde hair being pulled through the entryway, head back in laughter. _Six. _Blue eyes connected with brown, _five_, and they both mouthed the _four _letter name that belonged to the mohawked individual attached to Quinn's hand. _Three. _They turned back toward the room, taking in all of their friend's smiling faces, glasses raised to the ceiling. _Two. _Brittany wrapped an arm around her fiancee's waist and pulled her close. _One. _

Any gap between their bodies disappeared as a roar went up throughout the city. Santana's arms subconsciously took place around Brittany's slender neck, and pulled her even closer, if that were at all possible. It was several long moments before their lips parted and two foreheads met instead, both women catching their breath.

"Can we leave now?" Brittany whined, pouting slightly. Her thoughts were obviously far away from the party at hand, and if the Latina were to be honest, hers weren't exactly focused on champagne and karaoke either, so she nodded, grinning.

Without saying any proper goodbyes, the two quickly walked out of the celebration, knowing few would notice their absence, as the alcohol had been flowing for a few hours now, and everyone was floating well into oblivion. Though the air cooled their overheated skin, the walk was still a long one. As the women turned the corner, holding hands, they broke into a run toward the front door, laughing like they were sixteen again. Within seconds, the front door was opened and unceremoniously slammed behind them, and Santana felt her feet lifted from the ground.

_God bless those dance classes. _Brittany's strength allowed her to carry the small Latina with one arm, while her other hand had worked its way underneath the fitted dress constricting her lower limbs. The pair managed to pull off the offending fabric, and it hit the floor as Santana's back hit the wall. _Fuck. _The blonde's lips were leaving no part of her upper body untouched, and the sensations coupled with the scent of Brittany's hair had her wound tighter than she could handle.

"I need all of you, _now._" The Latina's eyes were dark, cloudy, but intensely focused on the blue orbs meeting her gaze in the dark. Neither woman broke the connection until Santana felt her entire body fill up, and her head fall back as her eyes closed. She couldn't contain her moans as Brittany's fingers filled her again and again, curling slightly towards the end. Leaning forward, the caramel skinned woman fitted her chin on top of a head covered in long blonde hair, Brittany's face pressed firmly between her breasts as she continued her work.

Santana felt her thighs shake, and her grip on the curls tangled in her fingers tightened as did every other muscle in her body. She bucked violently, gasping for air as her moans echoed throughout the hallway. Riding the wave of ecstasy, her body relaxed and fell limp against Brittany's, and the blonde slowly maneuvered the two women to the ground, not allowing her grip on Santana's waist to loosen.

Catching her breath, the Latina snuggled into her fiancee's left side, the sound of Brittany's heartbeat echoing her own and calming her still twitching limbs. She felt the arm around her waist tighten its grip, and a smile graced her features as fingers weighted by a sapphire bauble intertwined within her own.

"Happy New Year's beautiful."

"Happy New Year's B." 

**A/N: Very fluffy, I know, but you guys deserved a little happiness, after everything that has been happening between these two.  
><strong>Also, I think I have decided to expand the Quick storyline to some degree. <strong>  
><strong>


	20. Go Your Own Way

"Oh my word." _Fuck. _"I didn't mean to – "

"Put your dress on backwards before walk-of-shaming it out of Puck's apartment? Abandon us at the New Year's party for a hot piece of Jewish man candy? Let the bubbles flood your brain stem and lose all sense of those good Christian morals you so stellarly displayed in high school?"

"Walk in on us half naked in the hallway?" Brittany supplied, only deepening the flush apparent on the other blonde's face. The two women were still sprawled out just out of reach of their bedroom, Santana being in the most compromising position, bare chested, but not at all embarrassed.

She sat up, grabbed her dress and her fiancee's hand, and walked toward the bedroom to change. Just as Quinn thought she had made it through the interaction unscathed, raven hair flew back through the door frame, accompanied by a familiar smirk. "This ain't over Fabray. I want details, and lots of 'em."

Santana turned back into the bedroom, tossing her dress on top of the clothes hamper, and pulling out several articles of clothing to throw on the bed for after her shower. She padded towards the bathroom, noticing Brittany must have had the same idea, but not at all upset with the thought of sharing warm streams of water with her fiancée. _Save water, shower together, right?_

"Britt? What the heck are you doing in there?" she called, knocking on the door before entering. When she heard no response, she twisted the handle and found the tall blonde forming an intimate relationship with their toilet.

"Practicing bird calls," she grinned, before turning back and hugging the porcelain with all the strength left in her. Had she not looked so pathetic, Santana might have giggled. Instead, she went into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water and returned with it, a few Tylenol, and a cool washcloth.

"No more shots for you any time soon, huh?" she cooed, wiping hair away from Brittany's face with the cool cloth, feeling the girl lean into her touch until another wave of nausea crashed into the woman and she resumed her position, all attempts at keeping her vomit down forgotten.

The dancer shook her head. "I'm never ever drinking again. It's not fair that there's a thunderstorm in my tummy."

"How many times do we have to tell you baby? One tequila, two tequila, three tequila – "

"Floor," the blonde finished, smiling slightly before gripping the toilet again, and emptying her stomach of whatever liquid could possibly still be there. "Santana," she whined. "I don't like the floor. I think I'm done though."

Gingerly lifting her underneath the arms, the Latina pulled her into a standing position and stripped her of her dress from the night before, turning on the shower and pulling Brittany in after her. Still shaky on her feet, Santana carefully washed the long blonde locks, massaging the scalp beneath her fingers as her fiancée leaned back into her lithe body. The dancer settled onto the floor of the shower, sudsing her body with the lavender soap she was provided as her partner quickly did the same. The scent wafted upwards, taking Santana's thoughts captive and intoxicating her senses.

_"I know you haven't honey. I know."_

"How can I even think about telling them? Or my abuela? They're going to hate me, and it's all because of Finn fucking Hudson." Raven hair covered Brittany's black dress as the tearful Latina finally collapsed into her arms. Shaking with suppressed sobs, she managed four words. "Just hold me, please."

The blonde's arms wrapped around Santana's body, and she brought them slowly down to the floor in the wings of the auditorium, far away from prying eyes. Tears threatened to spill, but remained tightly locked behind long dark lashes.

Hints of lavender crept in with each inhale and the Latina eventually found herself breathing more slowly, the breaths deeper, to capture more of the elusive scent. Her tremulous limbs quieted, and her mind's racing met a near halt. "I'm ready Britt."

Pulling herself out of the day dream, Santana's eyes fell toward the floor, where she saw her fiancée sleeping lightly, the spray of the water occasionally splashing her freckled skin. She giggled before leaning forward and running her fingers lightly over each part of Brittany's face, rememorizing her features. "C'mon babe, it's time to get up again." The blonde shook her head slightly, indicating that force would have to be used if she were to budge an inch.

Turning off the water, she eased Brittany to her feet, and upon hitting the cool air of the bathroom, dried her off, throwing her hair into a messy bun and dressing her in loose sweats and a tank top. Santana then did the same to herself, much more quickly, before wrapping an arm around the familiar waist and making their way toward the kitchen. 

* * *

><p>"It was nothing okay!" Quinn exploded, clutching to her coffee cup tightly enough to lead Santana to believe she envisioned the cup to be her neck.<p>

"God Q, cut back on the caffeine if it makes you this uptight. I hadn't even begun attacking your character yet." The Latina grinned at the blonde's obvious nervousness, and casually leaned against the counter, knowing the action would only further perpetuate any uneasiness Quinn was feeling. "So, how was he?"

"Santana!"

"What? I'm simply curious. He hasn't exactly been frequenting my bedroom in the past five years. I learned fast that lady fingers can't knock you up, so I stuck with Britts over here." She bumped Quinn's hip, hoping the insult she couldn't quite hold back would be overshadowed by the teasing tone that flickered over her tongue.

"Honestly?" She sighed. "It was wonderful. He's grown up a lot since high school. We talked for most of the night – "

"And then let your bodies do the talking for you – " Santana was hushed by a pinch to her thigh from her fiancée, who's bright eyes urged their best friend to continue on.

"We talked about college, and Beth, and – oh, I don't know. It was nice. He asked me to dinner tonight, because he leaves in a few days, to go back to Boston."

Brittany, a broad smile firmly planted on her features, finally spoke up. "Why Boston?"

"He followed Shelby, originally. She had taken a position working with high school students at Boston Conservatory, for the summer intensives. He ended up getting into the police academy, of all things, and has been working there ever since."

"Puck? Juvie McKlepto? There is no fuc-"

Brittany cut her off. "That's great Q. I'm happy for you." Quinn shot her a grateful smile, before pouring coffee for the two women. 

* * *

><p>"Santana, can I ask you something?"<p>

Curling further into the blonde's side, the brunette nodded sleepily. Their best friend had left about an hour ago to meet Puck, and left to their own devices, the two had been channel surfing once Quinn's various emergencies had been handled.

_Are you sure this doesn't make me look fat? I don't know what to do with my hair. He's going to think I'm a dork. Oh my god, am I a dork? Great, I'm a fat dork._

Despite, or perhaps because of, their history, the classic beauty had been trembling in anticipation as she finally hugged her two friends and exited the front door, throwing a weary glance back, which Brittany returned with a beaming smile.

"Why were you so hard on Quinn?"

"I wasn't," Santana replied a little too quickly. Her answer was less than convincing, and she knew it. Sighing, she looked up into curious blue eyes, searching her own. "I'm just worried. I don't want her to get hurt again Britt. I know Puck redeemed himself to some extent, but I still worry."

Finally satisfied, the blonde nodded into her fiancee's hair, placing a kiss on the top of her head, before pulling her into the couch cushions and wrapping an arm around her waist once they were comfortably settled.

Nuzzling into Santana's neck, words of wisdom that never ceased to amaze the Latina fell off of Brittany's lips, teeth, and tongue. "Quinn's a big girl, you know? You try and protect her like you do me, but sometimes you just have to let us mess up on our own. Imagine what life would be like if you'd protected me from yourself. She'll know what to do honey, just trust her."

**A/N: Again, thank you for reading and reviewing. :) I'll update as soon as I can. I have some work over spring break, but I should also have a bit more downtime than usual.**

**Next chapter will include a recap of Quinn's date I believe, but remember that this is, and always will be, focused on Brittana. Just needed to shake it up a bit. **


	21. Open Your Eyes

" – and then we went and walked around for a while, just talking. We went through Central Park, and it started snowing, so he gave me his coat, and B – it was great, really great."

"Quinn, if you're going to sound like a freaking Taylor Swift song, you're going to at least have to brew me coffee," Santana grumbled, pulling herself off of the cold couch. As she turned the corner to the kitchen, she was met with a bright freckled face, holding a warm mug.

"One cream, two sugars," she whispered, nuzzling her nose against her fiancee's, provoking a begrudging grin. Quinn was sitting on the counter as she had been the morning of her arrival, and Brittany resumed her place leaning against the stove, a cup of hot chocolate in both of their hands.

"So when are you leaving?" The two resumed the conversation they'd been holding before Santana had unceremoniously wandered into the kitchen. Still protesting the morning as the caffeine had not yet jolted her system, the Latina eyed her best friend readily, awaiting her response.

"In four days. We'll catch a red eye to Boston."

Were it not for the dazzling smile covering every each of Quinn's perfectly crafted features, and the glow radiating off of her every motion, Santana might have said something. She might have reminded her of his reputation in high school. She might have warned her to be careful. She might have tried to stop her, telling her it was the worst idea imaginable. But, she kept her mouth shut, much to her fiancee's surprise._Sometimes you just have to let us mess up on our own. She'll know what to do honey, just trust her._

* * *

><p>Walking slowly, scarf draped loosely around her neck, two young women circled the park for the second time, a cool breeze fluttering their contrasting hair and nipping at their cheekbones. Children flooded every square inch of the grass, and a smile tugged at the Latina's lips – a smile that did not go unnoticed by the inquisitive blonde to her right.<p>

"I never struck you as the type for baby fever Lopez," Quinn cajoled. "Are you going soft?"

"Never. Lima Heights Lopez is still alive and kicking, just dormant I suppose when it comes to pig tails and strollers and toddlers," she replied honestly, despite herself.

Perching on an empty bench near a group of kindergarten aged children, the two settled comfortably, taking in their surroundings in silence.

_"I don't wanna be the husband Britt-Britt."_

_"We can't both be the wives, can we? You gots to go get money to feed the baby Tana." The tiny Latin girl sighed, knowing she was fighting a losing battle. "I made it. You gots to feed it."_

_Santana snuck into the kitchen through the back door, peering into the cabinets for appropriate food to bring back to the freckled blonde and their imaginary child. She had fit a bag of chips, a popsicle, and a can of soda in her arms before turning around to meet her mother's gaze, which immediately softened at her daughter's look of terror._

_"Is Brittany making you be the husband again?" The little girl nodded, blushing. "You know why, don't you?" Santana shook her head, signaling that she did in fact **not **know why. "She trusts you mija. She knows you would never let anything bad happen to her, so she expects you to handle things when they come towards you two – like you when you kicked that boy on the playground because he made fun of her pig tails," the older woman explained, laughing quietly at the memory of the two pint-sized girls running in the opposite direction of the crying boy. Her daughter had said but four words – "yo no lo hice."_

_"So I gots to be the husband so I can always protect her?" The elder Latina nodded, half-smiling as her daughter gave another resigned sigh, before looking up at her mother with hopeful eyes. "Mami, can babies eat popsicles?"_

"Santana?" The woman merely hummed in recognition of the fact that she was being addressed. "Before I leave tomorrow, I wanted to say thank you."

Eyebrows scrunched and a look of disbelief on her face, a familiar expression Quinn was more than accustomed to seeing, the Latina paused for a moment before formulating a response. "Why?"

"For trusting me – with the proposal, and being your maid of honor, and well, with Puck."

"You can thank Brittany for every single of those Q." _I love you more than I've ever loved anyone in this world. Admit that you want Quinn as our maid of honor – she's the only person you tolerate aside from me. She'll know what to do honey, just trust her._"She has made me realize so much about myself and the world around me, so anything good I've ever done is probably thanks to her."

"I wish that you could see that you bring out good in her too S. I have never seen Brittany so secure in who she is. You gave her the strength to stand up for herself. Your love has completely changed her; please try and remember that. What happened wasn't your fault, and you've been amazing with her since."

Santana felt her chest constrict at the mention of Christmas Eve's events, and brushed the conversation away quickly, the carefully constructed emotional walls of high school making a sudden reappearance. "Alright Fabray, any more of this of this feelings crap, and I'll think you've lost your edge. Let's grab Britts and celebrate your last night in town."

* * *

><p>"Another round please," the caramel skinned woman yelled in the bartender's direction, slapping a twenty on the counter and sliding it toward him, a little unsteady in her heels. Nodding, he filled three shot glasses with tequila, and slid them back across the bar with her change.<p>

Leaning casually onto the bar, toward the thin woman, he addressed her with a low, smooth voice. "You know, I see you buying shots, but I haven't seen you with anyone on the dance floor, and trust me, I've been watching every chance I could," the server said, smiling cheekily. "You're a beautiful woman, so it's a shame to think your boyfriend would let you out on your own. I would never let you leave my – "

Saved by a petite blonde, Santana didn't have a chance to reply before Quinn flew into the bartender's face. Pointing toward her best friend and then the hoping-to-get-lucky staff member, she said two words. "Lesbian. Asshole." The Latina couldn't help but hide her grin. "Again, that was," pointing to Santana, "very gay and happily engaged, and" poking the tall man in the chest, "fucking asshole. We clear?"

Grabbing a caramel hand in her own, Quinn navigated their way through the writhing bodies, looking for one in particular as the Latina attempted to keep the shots steady in one hand, failing readily.

"Not again," the blonde heard a raspy voice behind her utter quickly. The three had been drunk together more times than they could count. Regardless of how much they remembered of each night, three things were certain – the Unholy Trinity always lived up to their well-established drunk roles. No longer angry with Puck, Quinn took out her frustration on any male she could find fault in, and frequently attempted to jump into bar fights, even if she had never met anyone involved. Santana was a ticking time bomb, and no one could ever be sure of what it was that would set off the waterworks, but without fail, she had a breakdown. And as for Brittany, it was a miracle that she had not yet been arrested for indecent exposure. "Off the table Britt," Santana instructed, pointing toward the ground. "We've had this discussion."

Smirking, Brittany hopped off with ease, and the two readjusted her form fitting dress before the blonde entangled herself around the small waist of her fiancée. "I know, I know. Your eyes only," she whispered through long dark hair, sending an involuntary shiver down Santana's spine. Lips ghosting the earlobe in front of her, the blonde intertwined the two women's fingers, and breathing heavily, her other hand tracing circles into a toned tanned thigh, she whispered, "Dance with me. Show them what they're missing," before tugging on the hand in her hold and making a beeline for the middle of the room.

The sexual tension between the two can be seen by a blind man, and it was only more obvious as their bodies meshed on the dance floor, curve to curve, wrapped within each other. Quinn, who'd taken a seat at the bar, turned around to shoot a gloat at the bartender from earlier. After catching his eye, she leaned over and spoke directly to him. "You never had a chance buddy. They were born to love each other."

"Any with you then? You certainly aren't hard on the eyes."

A pair of strong arms wrapped Quinn's tiny waist, pulling her close to his chest. "She's with me," the much taller man replied, before planting a kiss on the petite blonde's cheek. "Hey babe."

"Creepy bartender, this is Puck. Puck, this is creepy bartender, who tried to hit on Santana." A cracked smile quickly covered the tanned face of McKinley's badass alumni, and he could hardly keep in a chuckle before turning to the embarrassed server and asking how the situation had played out.

Upon hearing a recount of Quinn's verbal smackdown, he pressed a quick kiss to her neck, before taking her hand and pulling her onto the dance floor. "Very nice Q," he laughed again. "Kind of feels like old times."

"Better than old times Noah; I don't get drunk on two wine coolers anymore, and you actually understand condoms," she replied with a wink, before dragging him further onto the dance floor to find the two women she came with.

* * *

><p>"Honey, please open up. I got you a bottle of water and some Tylenol."<p>

"Britt, this is worse than when that freshman used too much hairspray in the locker room and I went full Linda Blair on the back of her head. This hangover is – " she was cut off by another resounding round of alcohol induced vomit before her fiancée managed to jimmy the door open.

"Oh my god Santana. This is like that goo on Poltergeist. What did you even – " Before she could finish her sentence, the stench of the bathroom hit her like an 18-wheeler, and she found herself doubled over the sink, as the slightly green Latina had a death grip on the toilet, the two know simultaneously emptying their stomachs. "Now I'm **really** never drinking again."

When Quinn made it home later that morning, she found the two women surrounded by water bottles and Saltines, curled up together on the floor with a cool washcloth on both of their foreheads. Two hangovers in less than a week had to have been wreaking hell on their bodies, so the thin blonde decided to leave well enough alone, pulling a blanket off of their bed and covering their shivering bodies.

_Later, _she promised herself, _we'll talk about it later._

**A/N****: The next chapter will pick up a bit, because as you might have guessed, there is going to be a confrontation between Britanna and Quinn in regards to a situation that has been skirted around thus far. I apologize that it has taken this long to get this chapter up, a combination of working full time plus writer's block really kicked me in the ass, but I want to thank you all again for reading and reviewing. You are all wonderful!**_  
><em>


	22. Under My Skin

_Later, _she promised herself, _we'll talk about it later._

Stretching up off of the floor, various limbs cracking and popping, Santana gripped her stomach, tempted to settle back on the ground with her fiancée. _Fucking cramps. Perfect timing. _She eased herself upward to find a few more Tylenol and a heating pad to curl up with on the couch while she waited for Brittany to pull herself off of the floor.

A flash of blonde hair was all the Latina caught out of the corner of her eye, until Quinn settled on the couch next to her, a cup of chamomile tea in her hands.

"Here. I know it settles your stomach, and it wouldn't help with the cramps either." The caramel skinned woman nodded graciously, sipping on the warm tea and reading until both blondes announced that they'd be leaving for a while, to catch up before their best friend left. Feeling significantly better, Santana offered dinner in for the night, so they could spend their last night together quietly, simply enjoying the others company.

Quinn was set to leave just after eleven with Puck, so she and Brittany decided on another short walk around Central Park, giving the Latina time to relax while she cooked dinner for the four of them. Not long after the front door shut behind the two blondes did a knock bring her out of her thoughts as she pulled various ingredients from the fridge to set on the counter. _They forgot their keys again._

Opening the door without looking through the peephole, Santana was surprised to see that it wasn't in fact the women who'd just left, but Puck, with two large bottles of red wine. "Pinot noir, right? Second only to tequila," he grinned cheekily before ushering himself in. She couldn't help but stifle a laugh, because Noah Puckerman was still the man who knew her best.

They settled back into the kitchen, each with a glass of wine, while the caramel skinned woman constantly stirred the bubbling sauce on the stove and periodically checked the crusted chicken breasts in the oven.

"So what do you think Thing One and Thing Two are talking about on their walk?" he asked, taking a long sip from him glass.

"Knowing Quinn, emotions and our wedding and god knows what else. She spent the majority of yesterday afternoon impressing upon me how proud she was of me for _all of my progress_," she retorted.

"Lopez, you know you love it. She's the only person aside from Britt who can get away with saying that kind of shit and not getting pummeled. You like having someone on your side, even if it does occasionally require you to break down your Great Wall of China and spill some feelings."

Santana scoffed at his admittedly insightful comment, and turned back to her cooking before looking out of the window directly above the sink. It was getting darker, and a snow had started, so she texted her fiancée to be careful, and come home soon if possible.

**_Omw honey. :) Can I have hot cocoa when I get back? I would just ask for you to warm me up but we have company :( xoxo_**

A smile slowly spread against her tanned skin, as she typed a short response.

_**Cocoa I can do. The other stuff? Later ;) xx** _

After warming a mug of milk for Brittany's hot chocolate, Santana continued easy conversation with Puck, pulling various glasses and plates out to set the table and serve everyone as they waited a few more minutes for the two blondes to walk in the front door. When they heard the lock click open, both turned immediately toward the door, grins plastered on their faces, before nudging each other simultaneously, fully aware of how pathetic they looked.

Brittany walked in, shaking snow from her clothing, and was barely out of her coat before she was enveloped in a tight hug from her fiancée. Tugging on her scarf, Santana placed a kiss on the corner of her mouth before wrapping her up again, simultaneously reaching backwards to grab the steaming mug she'd placed on the table. The pair looked to their right, to see Quinn chuckling softly at something Puck had whispered to the blonde, her features softening into relaxation.

The four settled down for dinner, chatting happily and trying to prolong the minutes until the new couple had to leave, headed directly to the airport for their red eye to Boston to meet up with Shelby and Beth. Unfortunately, the tearful goodbyes between the three women came much sooner than they had hoped, and as Santana reached up to hug Puck and threaten him within an inch of his life were he to hurt her best friend, Quinn pulled her away and wrapped her into a tight embrace before pulling her off to the side.

"I left something for you, underneath the bathroom sink, in the cabinet with the towels." Santana cocked her head to the side, but said nothing. "Just, please use it."

"_Wanky_, Q. I never expected that from you."

"It's nothing like that S. Just, please promise me that as mad as you'll be, you'll put it to use, like, tomorrow." Taking note of the serious tone infiltrating her best friend's typically stoic, if occasionally playful, voice, she nodded.

"I promise."

She pulled the blonde in for another hug before walking her back toward the door to gather her bags. Wrapping an arm around her fiancee's waist, she leaned into Brittany's ear, asking if Quinn had said anything to her. A discreet shake of her head later, Santana decided to leave it be and investigate things later, before her the dancer had any idea of what she was up to. Final hugs were doled out, and as the pair shut the door behind them, both let out a breath they hadn't realized they were holding. The collective sigh echoed through the finally empty apartment, and Santana turned to the tall blonde standing next to her, who had an eyebrow arched and a mischievous smirk flooding her features.

"Want me to warm you up?" she whispered, sending a shiver down the Latina's spine as her fingers ghosted the hem of the t-shirt fitted around her hips.

Santana hummed her approval before pulling away from a kiss and shaking her head. "Shark week south of the border B, so tonight's all about you," she stated, pulling the blonde back in for another kiss before heading toward the bedroom, leaving a clothing trail behind them.

Warmed bodies melding together, lips and teeth battling, nipping, and sucking on every available square inch of skin, the two took each other's softness, the scent, the familiar feeling of wrapped limbs and wandering fingers and shaking cores before Brittany collapsed, her breathing labored. A few quiet moments passed between the two before the blonde rolled over and curled into her fiancee's side.

"Santana?" The Latina merely grumbled in return, pouting as she tried to slip back into the earliest stages of sleep. "Honey, please look at me." Seeing chocolate eyes finally lock onto blue, Brittany continued. "You said shark week, right? But, I haven't started my period yet. We always start on the same day."

"You've been busting ass at the studio, and all of the bullshit with my grandmother probably didn't help any. It's just stress Britt-Britt. I wouldn't worry about it," she murmured into Brittany's collarbone. Content enough with the reply, the blonde wrapped her arms around Santana's thin frame and fell asleep fast, drifting through dream after dream as soon as her eyelashes fluttered shut for the night. 

**A/N: **I'm sure at least some of you want to kill me at this point, but stick it out with me, I have a plan. Reviews are always appreciated. 3


	23. Lost Ones

**A/N: First off, a shout out to nayalove, because you have been one of my most dedicated readers, and I appreciate you so much for that. However, with that said, have some faith in me sweetheart. I still have a trick or two up my sleeve, so don't get discouraged quite yet.**

**Second, another big thank you to everyone else who has stuck with me this far. I appreciate the kind words and I hope you know I keep churning out chapters for you guys.**

_ "You said shark week, right? But, I haven't started my period yet. We always start on the same day."_

Santana's eyelashes fluttered open slowly, adjusting to the pale light creeping in through the window to her left. Her limbs refused movement until she caught the distinct scent of dark roast coffee floating through the apartment and ensnaring her attention. The first two weeks of school already had her dead-ass tired, her thesis looming over her head. She had called and thanked Quinn for the negative pregnancy test that sat in their bathroom trash last week, which was thankfully one less worry to carry around day after day.

_"No buns in the oven Q, but thanks for your concern."  
>"Someone has to take care of the two of you. If she doesn't get her period soon, like, next few weeks, do you promise to make a doctor's appointment? I have a bad feeling in my stomach, and I can't put a finger on why."<br>"Just enjoy your man-lovin' Quinn. We'll be fine."  
>A light chuckle filled Santana's ear, pulling a grin across the caramel skin nearest the phone speaker. "He and I are fine, and Boston was wonderful. Ask Britt for details, because I know you're too 'indifferent' to care," the blonde offered, a teasing tone in her voice.<br>"I'm happy for you, I really am. I'll keep you updated. Thanks again Q."_

"Smells delicious baby, thank you," she murmured into Brittany's shoulder when she finally convinced her legs to slide out from underneath the warmth of the down comforter and had made her way into the kitchen. Santana wrapped her arms around the slender waist in front of her, holding on for a bit longer than she normally would, relishing in the feeling of warmth radiating off of her fiancée.

Brittany was constantly in the studio, and Santana very nearly lived in the library, doing extensive research for her thesis, so they had not yet fallen into a pattern for the new semester and were seeing less of each other than either wanted to admit. A soft sigh fell out of her mouth before she realized, her mind tumbled in a dryer cycle of thoughts, before she heard a sweet voice tugging at her earlobes, unconsciously begging to be listened to.

"I miss you too honey," Brittany whispered sadly. "I feel like I never get to see you."

"We'll be okay. It'll just take a while for things to settle down. Kurt said he was meeting you for lunch later, right?"

The tall blonde nodded against her. "I wish I could have lunch with you though." Santana returned her nod, not trusting her voice not to crack, before grabbing her coffee mug and heading back towards the bedroom to get ready for her day. It may have only been the third week of school, but a combination of exhaustion, stress, and lack of blonde was taking a toll on her, and she wanted to get out of the door and be finished with the day as soon as she possibly could.

She grabbed her purse and books off of the bed, leaning in to give Brittany a kiss on the cheek before walking out the front door, silently counting the days until graduation. 

* * *

><p><em>It's time to try<br>Defying gravity  
>I think I'll try<br>Defy-  
><em>  
>"Lady lips, what did I tell you about changing my ringtones to show tunes?" she hissed into her phone, the ringtone having attracted stares from half of the students in the library.<p>

"Cut the crap Santana. I need you to meet me at New York Presbyterian."

"Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, you were the last person I expected a 'come to Jesus' talk from. I'm busy, so I'm hanging –"

"Santana!" he yelled, successfully gathering attention of his own from the people standing around him as well. "The hospital. Britt is – "

She hit the end button, not wanting to hear the rest of the sentence, before grabbing her notes, shoving everything in her purse, and running out of the front door, not caring who she ran into on her way out. Her mind was racing as she tore across campus, knocking shoulders with every person in her way, nearly barreling over a freshman she left shaking in front of a coffee kiosk. Finally making it to her car, she fought with the door for several seconds before realizing it was still locked, then yanked it open, settled into the seat, and fought the thoughts that filled her head to bursting.

_Brittany. Hospital. Hurt. Studio. Brittany. Dead. Accident. Hospital. Britt-Britt. _

She shook her head, took a deep breath in, and jammed her keys into the ignition, realizing the only thing that would stop the thinking was to drive, to get to her fiancée as fast as physically possible – and that required action on her part. It required a clear mind, steady hands, and strength she didn't possess as soon as she heard the words "hospital" and "Brittany" near one another.

* * *

><p>Breaking several laws, she made it to NYP in less than fifteen minutes, shaking off a feeling of guilt as she looked around the familiar waiting room, momentarily reliving the night that had changed things just over a month ago. <em>You've always protected me. Why now? Why let him hurt me? What did I do to deserve that? <em>Covering her mouth to try and trap a sob she felt vibrating in from the base of her spine, Santana drew in yet another gulp of air, heading toward the nurse's station.

"I'm looking for Brittany Pierce."

"I can only release information to family members." _Deja fucking vu. _

An overly soft hand grabbed one of her own, and she momentarily pulled away before seeing milky white skin and light brown eyes reflecting her terrified expression. Kurt tugged her along the hallway, passing what seemed to her to be every door in the hospital before reaching the end of the hallway.

"I'm going to go I think," he said quietly, accompanied by an awkward pat on the back with enough sympathy to make the Latina flinch. She approached the door handle slowly, not entirely sure what was waiting for her on the other side, looking back once at Kurt's small frame heading in the opposite direction without so much as an explanation as to what she was about to walk into.

_"Britt-Britt, what happened?"  
>"I just took a turn too fast, I'm okay," the blonde quickly replied, forcing a smile across her features as she lay back in the hospital bed, hoping her grin would reassure Santana, who was shaking in fear. Her right leg held up in a sling, and a heavy cast accompanied her various scratches and bruises, but she was used to motocross injuries. Santana, however, was not.<br>"I was so worried Britt," the petite girl whispered, hugging her best friend tightly. "I don't know what I would have done if I had lost you."  
>"You're stuck with me Santana, don't worry about that. I'm not going anywhere."<em>

Pinching the bridge of her nose as she took a few slow breaths, her hand made a painfully slow, shaky journey toward the handle again, this time connecting with the cool metal, pushing down. Beeping from various machines immediately assaulted her ears, as did the sound of mid-day soap operas coming from the opposite side of the room. She opened the door a bit further, seeing her fiancée snuggled underneath the standard issue hospital blankets, sleeping soundly, as far as she could tell. The sight of her sleeping in the same position that she had the night before, now simply in a different pair of sweat pants hit Santana in a wave, provoking a sigh of relief to slip through her lips.

Creeping slowly closer, hoping not to wake the gently slumbering blonde, she made her way across the room and to the other side of the bed Brittany was laid out on, and saw no cuts or bruises or casts, no external physical harm at all. This simultaneously calmed her previous nerves, as well as sending up a flurry of new worries. Internal bleeding, a brain hemorrhage, a concussion – any of those things could have happened, and without Kurt around, she had no answers until she could grab hold of a doctor. Instead of getting up and searching someone out, however, she curled up next to her fiancée in bed and soaked up her last few moments of blissful ignorance, running her fingers through the long blonde hair splayed out in front of her.


	24. Hear You Me

**A/N: Thank you for all the reviews everyone, they're incredibly appreciated. I feel like we're getting close to the home stretch, though I'm not sure how many chapters we'll have until the end.  
>With that said, I'm also working on a one shot inspired by the song 100 Years by Five for Fighting, which is about a third of the way done, so I hope you'll all read that once it's up. :)<br>Here you go!**__

_Instead of getting up and searching someone out, however, she curled up next to her fiancée in bed and soaked up her last few moments of blissful ignorance, running her fingers through the long blonde hair splayed out in front of her._

It could have been seconds, minutes, or hours since she had fallen asleep, but as her eyelids fluttered open, again taking in the bright lights of the hospital room, time was irrelevant. Feeling a body next to her, she carefully twisted around to look more closely at the woman lying next to her, soft breaths escaping her full lips each time her lungs exhaled. Eyes shut tightly closed and curled up and away from the bars on the side of the bed, she was the picture of perfection, despite the circumstances. Nudging her gently, the girl murmured in her sleep, obviously opposed to waking up.

Now fully awake, she gently shook the woman, earning a groan and thankfully, albeit begrudging, eye contact. Hazy blue eyes locked on chocolate ones, sizing each other up, both grateful for the others presence.

"Hey Britt-Britt, I'm sorry I fell asleep on you," the Latina said softly, unsure of what was appropriate to mention, sure that the reason for her fiancee's hospital stay would be broached eventually.

"I'm just glad you're here," the blonde replied, lovingly tucking a strand of hair behind the woman's ear. "Even if I'm not so glad that I'm here."

Santana paused, not sure if there was more to that statement, but released a sigh as she realized that Brittany was not going to be particularly forthcoming about the situation without a little prodding. She nodded, taking her time before beginning the question and answer session she was sure this would develop into.

"Ms. Pierce?" a deep voice came from across the room, causing both women to jump a little, as they had been successfully wrapped into a world of their own, unaware of any happenings outside of the bed they shared. Brittany looked up and nodded for the man to come in. "How are we feeling?"

"A little better, I suppose. I'm not hurting as badly, which is nice enough. I would just really like to go home," she admittedly honestly. "I don't like being here, and I know for a fact she doesn't either," she laughed, nudging the brunette next to her. Santana couldn't help but notice that the laugh never reached her eyes, and she reached over, intertwining their fingers and giving a reassuring squeeze.

"Well, I actually have your release papers here, if you are so keen to get going. Normally we would keep you overnight, but this doesn't seem to be a high risk case, so we'll send you home with a prescription for low strength pain killers, if you need them, and you'll have to come back in within the next few weeks for a follow up. Does that all sound good?" Brittany nodded again, avoiding her fiancee's questioning eyes, and reaching up slowly to take the clipboard from the doctor.

Signing a few dotted lines quickly, she handed the paperwork back, and leaned forward to grab hold of her jacket and shoes next to the bed. Against her will, her body shuddered and a breathy gasp hit the ears of the two others in the hospital room. Santana instinctively leaned forward to rest a hand on her back and inquire as to whether she were okay, while the doctor stood quietly, waiting for Brittany to catch his eyes once more.

"Ms. Pierce, you've been instructed on your after care multiple times – small, slower movements, a lot of rest, and no dancing until you have been cleared, am I understood?" She nodded abashedly, feeling much like a child for being so quickly berated. "However, as I'm fairly sure you have an attentive nurse by your side, I trust that you will do as you've been told," he said, grinning at Santana who had been soaking up every word. "You're free to go Brittany. Pick up your prescription and appointment time at the front desk on your way out, and please, take it easy for a few days." 

* * *

><p>Brittany flinched as the car door slammed behind the Latina, whose action was the only indication of her feelings, as words hadn't been exchanged since the doctor walked out with her release papers. Her eyes were cold and unreadable, and no other portion of her face held giveaways of what was churning through her mind.<p>

After slumping back in the driver's seat, Santana turned toward her fiancée, who was still actively avoiding eye contact, and spoke, her words harsh and low. "Are you going to keep me in the dark, or are you finally going to tell me what the fuck is going on Britt? Because I played the role of supportive spouse in there when I had no idea what was happening, and I think I deserve an explanation. I get a phone call from Kurt telling me to show up at the hospital, and he leaves without a word once I get there. When we wake up, we're interrupted, so I can't ask, and then it obviously wasn't important enough for me to know before we left the damn hospital." Brittany said nothing, staring down at her hands which were fidgeting nervously. "Tell me what is going on baby, please. I was so worried."

Looking up to meet her fiancee's eyes, which were now admittedly not so stormy, her own eyes filled with yet unshed tears, her throat unable to make the words any more than a whisper. Santana cocked an eyebrow and leaned in further, urging her to repeat the sentence she hadn't heard, not due to lack of trying. The blonde cleared her throat, trying again to say the four words she had been dreading. "I lost the baby."

Brittany's eyes spilled over, not realizing how attached she could become to something without having even known of its existence. As soon as the doctor said the word, one that seemed like the worst word in the English language, her mind flew to a thousand different possibilities - what would have happened if she hadn't lost the baby._Would it have been a boy or a girl? Would they have decided to keep it? What would have happened to her career, or to Santana's? Could Santana even love a child that was nowhere near her own? Could Brittany? Could she live with a constant reminder of that night?_

"The baby?" Santana questioned, sure she had heard her right, but unable to believe the words. Her fiancée simply nodded in return, and continued clutching at her t-shirt, broken as she let sobs wrack her body. Crawling over the center console, the Latina made her way into the passenger's seat, pulling Brittany into her lap. She began rocking her gently back and forth, whispering gentle words over and over again, one hand subconsciously placed on the blonde's lower stomach while the other had automatically gravitated to her back, rubbing soothing circles there.

As her sobs reduced in intensity, blue eyes met brown once more, asking silently for understanding. She hadn't wanted to say it out loud, because despite the reasons that the child had come into existence, it still felt like she had lost a part of herself. She had failed such a tiny thing without even meaning to, and she wasn't sure she was ready to face that. Rather than say that though, she simply relayed the facts to her fiancée, hoping it would be enough to tide her over for the time being.

"Kurt was supposed to meet me at the studio, and I was showing him my senior piece, a new one, when I got really lightheaded and fell out of a set of turns. We figured I was just hungry, so I went to the bathroom to clean up a bit before we left, and when I went to the bathroom there was – " Her voice caught in her throat, and she looked close to tears again. Santana wrapped her arms more tightly around the blonde, pulling the woman's shaking body closer to her own, willing her limbs to transfer some strength into her fiancée.

"You don't have to Britt, it's okay."

She shook her head. "It's not. I just want to get it out, over and done with." Santana nodded, patiently waiting for her to continue. "There was blood everywhere, nothing like I would normally have, you know? Kurt knocked because I had been in there a while, and when he walked in, he saw how pale I was, and I fainted. I don't know why about that either. But I woke up here, not long after, and they told me I – they told me I had a – "

Santana felt a single tear slip down her cheek as Brittany collapsed into sobs again, both unable to say the word plaguing both of their thoughts. _Miscarriage._


	25. Body and Soul

"_My water just broke."_

The chaos that ensued, catalyzed by those four simple words, was unprecedented. The beautiful blonde who'd spoken simply ran her fingers through the long hair coating her shoulders, awaiting instruction. The woman in front of her was momentarily frozen as well, entirely unprepared. The next moments flew by in a rush of lights, opening doors, and quickly spinning wheels. It was hard to find something tangible to focus on when pain coursed through her veins and sweat flooded every inch of her skin not already covered in tears. Clutching the sheets, she dug her fingernails in as she heard the song she'd imagined for eight months, if not much longer than that, the sobs wracking her exhausted body mimicking the strangled cries she heard from the tiny body she'd just produced.

She jolted upright as the sounds suddenly halted, tearing her blue eyes wildly across the room. Someone had dimmed the lights, yet she continued looking for the baby she had heard crying. It took a moment to allow her vision to adjust, a split second longer than it took her to recognize the gentle pressure on her forearm. Whipping her heard to the right, Brittany met chocolate eyes, filled to the brim with emotion – concern, fear, and an overwhelming sadness.

"Britt, honey?" the woman started slowly, testing the water. The quivering blonde whispered but one word before collapsing into her fiancée's arms. _Beth. _

* * *

><p>Impatiently tapping a foot as the phone in her hand continuously rang, Santana didn't allow time for greetings or small talk when she heard a breathy voice on the other end of the line.<p>

"Q, you need to come back to New York."

"Hello to you too dear," she replied shortly, her voice seething with frustration. "You know as well as I do that our last semester just started – no. I can't and won't come back based on your whims Santana."

"Quinn, I _need _you to come back." Santana was intent on never needing anyone. She had prided herself for years on being self-sufficient, but this was out of her hands. Each day Brittany's heart cracked further, and she meandered back toward the person she'd been during the holidays. Each hour that passed, the frailty in her eyes grew, overtaking the brilliance that normal flooded the sapphire orbs her fiancée knew like the back of her hand. Each second that flickered by, Santana felt her slipping further from her grasp, and she knew Quinn heard that in her low, shaky words. "Please Q, just for the weekend. I'll buy your ticket. Britt needs you. I need you."

Hearing soft footsteps behind her as she simultaneously got an affirmative from her best friend, Santana flipped around to catch a glimpse of hardened blue eyes that swiftly broke contact and headed in the opposite direction. Whispering a goodbye, the petite Latina ended the call and quickly dropped her phone on the counter, intent on following her fiancée, who she found in the threshold of their apartment, hand outstretched toward the door.

"Britt, where are you going?"

The reply came short and rough, a single word. "Out."

"You can't run away every time something happens Brittany. That's my job," she said quietly, hoping to provoke even a stifled laugh, to no avail. Walking slowly forward, she reached out toward the quivering hand that wasn't holding the doorknob in a death grip, and tried a different approach. The blonde noticed the immediate softening of Santana's eyes, and her walls built upon themselves. "Please, baby, just talk to me. Don't shut me out again." A scoff was all that met her ears.

"That's rich Santana, really. You, the woman who keeps her emotions under lock and key, complete with surveillance cameras and guard dogs, wants me to just open up about my feelings? Right." The blonde's words were harsh, and directed straight toward the flaw her fiancée was most insecure about. They both knew she had come a long way, but in the moment, all Brittany wanted was for someone to hurt as much as she did.

"Please don't go. We don't have to talk. I just don't want to worry about you all night. I don't want anything to happen to you."

"That isn't your decision, now is it? I can choose to walk out the front door if I damn well please," she retorted. The next words bubbled to the surface, softer, almost inaudible, but certainly unwelcome. "It seems like that's the only choice I can make anyway – everyone else keeps deciding for me."

Catching the blue eyes once more, Santana saw her fiancée, her best friend, the love of her life fully broken. Her eyes were dim, rimmed with dark circles, and her hair hung limply around her face. Her body, typically strong, seemed to reflect her inner struggle, as her shoulders were slumped, her feet turned in on one another, her spine barely supporting her thin frame.

"Britt – "she whispered, inspecting her feet carefully, expecting a blow up in return, and not trusting herself to maintain the eye contact she'd sought out. She stood stock still, waiting for a slammed door, a strangled yell, or even fists turned in her direction, ready to lash out. When she chanced a look upward, she was met with an entirely different scene. Tears rolling down her cheeks, Brittany hadn't moved, and was now shaking fiercely, clutching her arms around herself, pulling at the fabric of her jacket as she stared at a spot directly above Santana's left shoulder. Slowly, as if she were trying not to startle a vicious animal, the smaller girl moved forward, unable to determine what reaction she would provoke. "Britt?" she repeated, a question this time, hoping to secure a reply. The trembling blonde in front of her merely crumbled in response, dropping to the floor, as it seemed had happened many times for the two of them in this spot particularly.

Falling into familiar patterns, Santana quickly came to rest next to her fiancée, who clutched her t-shirt fiercely, her words a skipping record through her tears, repetitive and all the while utterly heartbreaking. _Please don't leave me. Please, please don't leave me. _ Cooing into her neck softly, lush lips repeated words back to her, hoping to sooth the aching sobs rushing in waves through Brittany's body. _I'm not leaving. I'm not going anywhere. _

A flash of realization flooded the forefront of Santana's brain and the words bubbled out of her mouth before she had a moment to process them. "Why would you think I would leave?"

She turned to the heaving blonde in her arms, who mustered up whatever reserve of strength she possessed, looking up into chocolate brown eyes, swimming with concern. "I fuck up everything." Santana's eyebrows drew close together, and she cocked her head to the side automatically, a dead giveaway that the situation at hand wasn't making sense to her, despite her attempts to piece together the bits of puzzle. "I fight with you for no reason, and your grandmother hates me, and I couldn't push that guy off of me, and my dancing has been terrible, and I pull away when I need you most, and – " Her shoulders released a resigned sigh. "I lost the baby." She whispered the last four words, another sob stuck in her throat.

It was the first time since the hospital visit that the typically bubbly dancer had referenced the miscarriage. It was a sore subject for Santana as well, but the petite Latina would never admit that she felt she was suffering a loss too. Brittany was fading away slowly, mourning the loss of a life that would never be. A part of her heart was stolen from her that morning in the too bright hospital room, and both women knew it would never be returned. The situation was far from ideal, that was common knowledge as well, but Santana couldn't help but imagine a little girl (she was sure it would have been a girl), twirling around their living room years from now, her head thrown back in laughter as she was sung to by her two doting mothers. She couldn't help but have imagined the next nine months of their lives, and each day after that, struggling to make ends meet, but ultimately happy. They could have done it, she knew they could have, but they were never given the opportunity to try.

Choosing her words carefully, Santana intertwined the milky white and caramel fingers, tugging her fiancée's body closer to her own. "That doesn't mean you messed up Britt." Fighting more tears, the blonde in her arms nodded emphatically, indicating that it in fact meant _just that._ "Do you remember what I told you on New Year's, when you pulled me into Kurt's guest room?" Brittany shook her head side to side this time, slowly. "I wanted things to be different. I said I wanted this to be on _your terms. _Maybe that's what this is. Maybe someone, somewhere up there decided that you deserved a pregnancy that wasn't tainted with memories you shouldn't have to relive every day. Maybe I'm the one who was supposed to carry our first baby. Or maybe God knew that I already had a handful with you and having a mini-Britt would be too much for me to worry about while I was doing my residency," she said the last suggestion with a slight giggle, hoping for a positive response, which her fiancée thankfully granted, in the form of a twitching grin. "Can you imagine me coming home in scrubs to a tiny, bouncing you, rattling in Spanglish, while I try to memorize every disease known to woman? I'd never get anything accomplished, because it's hard enough to tear my eyes away from you most nights, much less a pint-sized you."

A comfortable silence washed over the two women, both imagining the scene in their mind's eye, picturing what their future would have been with a mixed sense of longing, regret, and surprisingly, _hope. _

"We're going to be okay Britt, I know we will. We have been through hell and back in the past five years, and if that has taught me anything, it's that what we have can't be touched – it can't be broken. Maybe we didn't plan for things to happen like this, but I know, with everything I have, that if we face this together, we'll come out on the other side stronger. We'll keep living, without ever forgetting this moment, the life that we never had the opportunity to help grow, because we weren't meant to, and when we do have kids, we'll tell them about their older sister, who was just like her mom. We'll tell them about their sister, who was the epitome of an angel, who God had to keep in heaven to watch over them. We'll tell them how loved she was, even though we never had the chance to meet her. We'll tell them all of that."

When Santana finally finished, her chest significantly lighter, she found Brittany's eyes, crinkled with a soft smile, brimmed with fresh tears. "Their big sister?"

Blushing, the Latina nodded. "I know we would have had a little girl. I could feel it."

Curling into her fiancée's side, Brittany nodded as well. "Yeah, me too honey. Me too."


	26. Goodbye to You

**A/N: I want to apologize for the delay in this update. I just finished off this semester, so hopefully I will be able to update more often. With six finals, and three papers to finish off, I honestly didn't have any time or brain power left for fic writing, haha. So, with that said - here's the longest chapter to date. I feel like we're getting closer to the end, but as I've said before, I plan on continue to write, just not necessarily on this story. :) Reviews are appreciated, because I love to hear y'all's thoughts!**

"You can't blame yourself you know." _Yes I can._ "This was completely out of your control." _No, it wasn't. _"Beating yourself up about this won't make you feel better B." _I don't want to feel better. I don't deserve to feel better._ "Trust me, I know." _No, no you don't. _"You and Santana just need to keep moving – it's the only thing that will help." _She shouldn't even be with me._

* * *

><p>Sliding in next to a precariously perched blonde on the couch, tanned fingers interlaced with paler ones, tugging close. "Any progress Q?"<p>

"None. She's shutting me out completely. She won't speak, or even look at me. I know it's not quite the same, but it's similar."

"Yeah, sweetheart, it is, but if I remember correctly, nothing anyone said made you feel better about it for a while. Maybe we all just need to give her some time – let her work things out on her own?" It was a last ditch effort, but they both knew Quinn was at the end of her rope. She had been talking to Brittany for nearly two months now, and no progress had been made.

An exasperated sigh escaped the blonde's lips before she replied. "Yeah, I'm sure you're right Noah. I'm just so worried, and I can tell Santana is too. B won't eat, or sleep, or speak. She's barely going to her studio classes, and her professors are concerned as well. I don't want her to throw away everything she has worked on because of this." She curled into her boyfriend's chest, and his arm instinctively wrapped her more closely to his chest before he placed a kiss on her forehead.

"Britt's a fighter, you know that. She'll be okay babe. She'll pull out of this, kill her performance at the end of next month, and then her and our favorite hell on heels doctor-to-be can get married and make lady babies on their own terms. Right?" Letting out a giggle at Puck's use of the term _lady babies_ as everyone had taken to saying when referring to Brittany and Santana's potential offspring, she nodded under his chin. _Right._

* * *

><p>Fingers clacked furiously against the keyboard in front of them, the slender digits making quick work of the words flooding through Santana's head, transmitting her every hope for medical school into decipherable sentences. She had promised herself that she would finish her thesis that night, hoping that Brittany would want to celebrate for the weekend, after her performance the following evening.<p>

Catching movement out of the corner of her eye, her attention was tugged away from the still unfinished document in front of her, toward her left. Mocha eyes softened as she carefully scrutinized the blonde swirling across the wooden floors of their apartment in a t-shirt that seemed to have molded to her every curve, accompanied by baggy sweats, and as per usual, as Santana's eyes graced the bottom of the lithe frame, two mismatched socks, folded under so only her toes were covered. It was a familiar scene, one she hadn't been privy to in over three months, and the intimacy of the act tugged at her heart strings, as a rush of comfort coursed through her tired body. _She was dancing again. _Finally taking note of Santana's presence, after feeling her eyes following her across the living room, Brittany flopped onto the couch, pausing the iPod attached to her arm, and removing her ear buds before placing a sloppy kiss on her fiancée's cheek.

"How's the thesis?" she chirped, the sound ringing foreign, yet certainly not unwelcomingly in Santana's ears.

"Nearly finished, thankfully. I have a few more pages, and then I need to double check my references, but I should finally be out of the woods," she replied with a grim smile. Another softer kiss was tucked underneath the back of her ear, smooth lips gracing the caramel skin, provoking a shiver down Santana's spine.

"You amaze me, you know that?" Brittany whispered, her lips not moving from the tent of dark hair they'd been resting within. "I am so proud of you."

The two sat silently for a while, enjoying the closeness that had been stripped from their relationship months before, then yanked away again not long after. It was warm, comforting, and nostalgic, and neither wanted to break the spell they had fallen into, after yearning for a moment like this for such a long time. After several moments, however, Brittany became fidgety, something not unusual for someone who's entire life was centered around movement, and she angled her body toward the woman sitting next to her, mildly unsure of how to begin.

"Santana?" Warm chocolate eyes met her own, and silently encouraged her to continue. "I spoke to Holly." The dark irises lightened in confusion, accompanied by furrowed brows. "You know, Miss Holliday. I've had her number since high school, and even though she changes jobs like Puck changed sexual partners, she's always kept the same one. So I called her last week, to talk."

"Can I ask about what?"

Humming slightly to herself, Brittany nodded. "Mostly about the baby, but some about us, and how I felt bad for not being able to let you in – for not letting you, or anyone else, help me when we all knew I needed it. I talked to her about dancing, and how hard it was to find joy in the thing that I loved, because I felt like I didn't deserve it, or like I didn't deserve you." Santana sat quietly, processing all of the information, unable to grasp words to respond with, so she simply took hold of her fiancée's hand, stroking the soft skin of her palm gently. "So she gave me an idea, for a song to use for my senior performance, and I've been working on it since we spoke. I think you're going to like it. You are coming right?"

"Have I ever missed a chance to see you dance Britt-Britt? Not even a lifetime supply of breadsticks could keep me away," she giggled, a soft grin coloring her features.

* * *

><p>The auditorium was filled, without a spare seat in sight. Santana sat comfortably between Brittany's mother and her younger sister, who had flown in earlier that evening, and would leave right after, so Hailey wouldn't miss any remaining days of her senior year of high school. The Pierces were more than supportive of both of their daughters so a round trip ticket for one performance wasn't unheard of. Looking toward her left, Santana caught Brittany's father smiling softly at his wife, their hands clasped gently, before he returned his proud gaze in the direction of the still closed curtains swept across the stage.<p>

A sudden booming voice caused more than half of the audience to jump, the anticipation coursing through them collectively breathing nerves for their loved ones standing mere feet away in the shadowed wings. As the stage lights came on and the pumping music pulsated through the speakers, any attention dedicated to anxiety fell to the wayside, as the stage was flooded with movement. It took sheer seconds for Santana's eyes to find the miles long, strengthened legs she'd memorized time after time. An expression of pure serenity exuded from Brittany's movements, a graceful smile eased onto her lips as she molded her body to fit those around her, a mimic of the other limbs in her vicinity, but still somehow enigmatic enough to hold her own beam of light away from all of the others on stage.

Each dance more captivating than the prior, Santana absorbed every minute motion, overwhelmed by the beauty her fiancée managed to capture and provide for the audience, giving away a bit of herself with each performance, with each stretch of her arms toward the high ceilings, each brush of her toes off of the blackened floors, each tumble toward the ground, or each moment she sailed through the air as if she was simply a feather while the rest flew as birds.

A brief intermission removed her thoughts from the clouds, bringing her gently back toward the reality of her surroundings. She caught both of Brittany's parents grinning at her, a smile so similar to the one she would wake up to every morning, as if they were amazed that she was there, in their daughter's life, a reflection of the same sentiment the blonde had so often relayed to her. Blushing profusely, she excused herself down the aisle toward the rest room, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She had to step back and do a double take, as she realized that the face looking back at her, familiar though it was, held something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

She radiated happiness, her features nearly glowing as she chuckled and grinned at herself in the mirror, feeling thoroughly goofy. The tops of her cheekbones were tinted pink, her dark eyes sparkled, and she could have, in that moment, been the poster child for one of Mrs. Pillsbury-Schuester's brochures, "So you're head over heels in love?" Rushing to return to the auditorium after washing her hands, she settled back in between Hailey and Mrs. Pierce, feeling their eyes on her once more.

"Hush, all of you!" she whispered, trying to maintain the edge in her voice, but failing miserably as she broke out into yet another grin. The lights dimmed once more, and thankfully all three sets of identical blue eyes turned away from her, and back toward the stage. Santana settled back, not really watching the dances, knowing that once again, Brittany would close the show. Her mind fluttered from memory to memory, never resting in one time period for long, but remembering every moment that had brought the two women to this place.

_Sex is not dating. If it were, Santana and I would be dating. I'm not making out with you because I'm in love with you and want to make lady babies. It meant so much to me to see you be so honest, especially 'cause I know how bad it hurt. I was so proud of you. This relationship is really confusing for me. I have to admit that I'm in love with you. All you have to do is say yes. When we get to New York, I'm bailing to live in a lesbian colony. Or Tribeca. It's a playlist, with all the songs that I hear in my head for when I'm with you, or when I'm thinking about you. Brittany will always be my girlfriend. Score. I love you so much._

Feeling a light pressure on her hands, as she'd been fidgeting with them, she looked up at Brittany's mother smiling at her warmly. "She's next," she whispered, the smile never wavering. Both women turned their gaze back towards the now darkened stage, as acoustic guitar filled the spaces around them, followed soon by soft back beats. The lights rose slowly, revealing a blonde swathed in a pale pink dress, swirled at her knees, rocking back and forth gently, allowing the music to flow through her long limbs, seemingly unaware of the audience in front her as she floated across the stage to the beginning of the lyrics.

Santana analyzed the sounds, as well Brittany's motions, hoping to remember the song as it continued, but realizing quickly she had never heard it, she understood Holly's choice, and how fitting it was. It was their final goodbye.

_What would you think of me now? So lucky, so strong, so proud;  
>I never said thank you for that, now I'll never have a chance.<br>_  
><em>May angels lead you in, hear you me my friend<br>On sleepless roads, the sleepless go - may angels lead you in_

As the guitar chords picked up, an edge underneath the strumming, Brittany's strong arms and legs punctuated each note, allowing her to pour forth every word she'd been unable to muster in the past months onto the stage.

_And if you were with me tonight  
>I'd sing to you just one more time<br>A song for a heart so big  
>God wouldn't let it live<em>

Santana's eyes shone through tears, as a smile twitched at the corner of her mouth. Somehow, through all of the people, brown and blue managed to connect for a split second, and she saw the tears welling up in Brittany's eyes as well, as she poured every particle of her body into her last movements, finally collapsing onto the stage with the last strum, remaining there, curled up, despite the thunderous applause she was receiving.

Standing quickly, Santana nudged her way through the aisle, flying out of a side exit, and through what she knew to be the backstage door, bringing her straight into the wings. She watched as all of the other performers looked on, varying emotions playing on their features – pity, sympathy, confusion. As soon as a member of the stage crew pulled the curtains closed, she rushed toward the center of the stage, pulling Brittany tight into her chest, rocking her gently in time with the cooing sounds she whispered into the long blonde hair she brushed back.

Pulling the dancer up, Santana wrapped her arms around her fiancee's waist, willing every ounce of strength she possessed to be transferred into the shaking limbs wrapped around her shoulders.

"I just needed to say goodbye."

"I know Britt, I know."

"But what do we do now?"

"We make our little girl proud. That's all we can do."


	27. Make Me Proud

**A/N: I know I said we were near the end, and well, this is it. I want to thank everyone who has stuck with me through this fiction, particularly the ever lovely nayalove, who was hands down my most dedicated reader. I hope this ending does the story justice, and that you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing this.**

**With that said, I plan on finishing up my one-shot, 100 Years, which should be posted by the end of this week, and I've already begun work on another Britanna fic, an AU, who's first chapter should also be up this week. No definitive title yet, as I'm still getting a feel for the plot, but if you set up an author alert, you'll see it soon. :)**

**Again, thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, and alerted. I appreciate all of your support, and I will be forever grateful for your kind words.  
><strong>

Slipping the worn silver key into the familiar lock, Santana heard the latch click before nearly collapsing through the doorway as she fell into the threshold of her home. Intoxicating scents wafted across the room, and she let each wave wash over her before tossing her purse to the ground and slipping off her shoes and coat, putting both in their respective places and padding into the living room directly to her left. She placed a quick kiss on a freckled cheek tickled by overgrown blonde bangs, a moment's hesitation on her journey toward the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine and determine what creation her wife had thrown together for the evening, because it smelled heavenly. As she leaned over to observe the bubbling pots in front of her, she felt arms snuggle as easily as they could around her waist, pulling her close.

"Artichoke and spinach stuffed shells in alfredo sauce," she heard a soft voice coo over her shoulder. "Izzy is still upset that people eat ducks, so it's peanut butter and jelly every day for lunch and vegetarian dishes for dinner."

"I seem to remember Izzy's mom having the same problem when we were younger," Santana replied, giggling lightly before placing a warm kiss on her wife's cheek, a mirror image to the freckled cheek her lips had brushed moments ago.

"I think her Mami had just as hard a time with it. It's not easy to explain to a duck enthusiast that not everyone shares her love for her feathered friends," she replied cheekily, recalling Santana's look of sheer horror as Brittany cried in her arms over the thought that anyone would want to eat a '_poor baby duckling._' "Dinner will be ready in ten though, so go ahead and sit with Iz. I'll bring you your wine babe."

Dragging her tired limbs back in the direction of the couch she so craved, Santana flopped next to the small blonde tucked into the leathered cushions. Nudging her gently with a bony elbow, Isabel caught her mother's eyes, chocolate brown locking into an identical shade of mocha, before the two burst into a fit of giggles. Hoping she could continue the melody she'd fallen in love with four years ago, Santana leaned over her daughter, wiggling her fingers menacingly, and as she expected, Izzy cowered away, clutching her stomach as she allowed her body to shake in laughter.

"Isabella Danielle! Santana Marie!" The two immediately covered their mouths, praying their hands would stifle the continuous giggles still falling over their lips. "I swear, you two act like you're related. Could you please contain yourself enough to make it to the table in one piece?" the blonde said, attempting to hold back laughter of her own, as she held a hand protectively over her lower stomach.

_"I need to be sure that you two have considered the risks of this," the doctor repeated for what felt like the fiftieth time. "This procedure is still in its infancy, and there is no guaranteed results, honestly."_

_The two women met each other's eyes, a look that spoke volumes fluttering between them, despite their doctor's obliviousness to the exchange. Santana nodded once to her wife, then again, more definitively in the doctor's direction._

_"We're sure," she replied with conviction, settling back onto the hospital bed once more, shivering slightly, as the gown they had her in left little to the imagination, and even less toward general warmth. "Hit me with the drugs doc," she continued, winking at Brittany who giggled in return.  
><em>

* * *

><p>Chomping happily on her pasta, Isabel relayed every moment of her day, starting with her choice of breakfast cereals and mismatched socks, continuing on through a story about a little boy who threw up on the slide, not noticing the shade of green her mothers both turned, though definitely noticing her Mami's fist pump when she recalled kicking another boy in the shins for making fun of the sick child, and finishing with the coloring sheet she had for homework, in which she colored her unicorn purple.<p>

The perfect combination of the two women in front of her, intelligent enough to discern a lie easily, yet still captivated by every day magic, the small child encompassed enough confidence to convince any person, peer or adult, that she was correct. She often lashed out, at anyone and everyone, including her mothers, when she was hurt, but returned promptly after with a pout and a sincere apology - her heart composed of nothing other than pure gold.

Similar stories told by other children, even her goddaughter, Emily, as similar as she was to Isabel, with long blonde locks and mischievous hazel eyes, her father's doing, could not captivate Santana's attention as well as could the small girl in front of her. Quinn and Puck had teased her for years, claiming she was whipped, but the hold Brittany had on her heart was miniscule in comparison to the wrapped parent she had become with Izzy, giving in to nearly her every desire. Surprising to everyone but the Latina herself, Brittany was the authoritative one in the relationship, often having to step in, keeping Santana from giving their daughter a third or fourth scoop of ice cream.

* * *

><p><em>Santana lay back in the hospital bed, a bit woozy from the anesthesia, as the doctor checked the small incisions in her lower back, asking for what she was <em>sure _was the fiftieth time if she understood the process. The medication was clearly still taking effect, as the explanation she divulged was not medical in the slightest, though she could have given a textbook definition of the procedure, now that she was working at a hospital of her own, a member of the surgical team. "I got it Dr. H. You take my bone marrow, mess with it in the lab a little bit, and make lady sperm, so I can make lady babies with my lady," she slurred, drawing out the last word unnecessarily. Brittany clasped a hand over her mouth, attempting to stay at least somewhat professional about the process that would hopefully change their lives forever._

_Doctors across the world had been doing research into this procedure, the crafting of reproductive tissue, eggs and sperm, from the stem cells in bone marrow, since 2007, and after successful trials in the laboratories with rodents, and a few other small animals, they had begun human trials. The head of medicine at the hospital Santana was working at recommended the pair, having known the doctor heading the trials, after having a light hearted chat over coffee with the caramel skinned surgeon, when she'd spoken about her and Brittany's disappointment in knowing that they would never had a child biologically their own._

_It was a long shot, but easy had never been the way the pair had gone about doing things. They were both well aware of the risks, but the benefits seemed to outweigh those nagging doubts. Brittany was receiving hormone treatments to stimulate ovulation, and at the end of the month, they were prepared to make their first attempts at conception, even if it would be in a magnificently unromantic, overly sterile clinical technician's room._

* * *

><p>"You're quiet tonight." The pair had been curled up in front of the fire for nearly a half an hour after putting their daughter to bed, one with a glass of wine, another a mug of peppermint tea, the only thing keeping her all-day morning sickness at bay.<p>

Snuggling into her wife's shoulder, Santana nodded. "Just a long day at work, I guess. It's easy to forget about when Izzy's jumping off of the walls, but when it's calm? It gets harder." The blonde tugged her more closely, massaging the Latina's neck with one hand as she patiently waited for her to continue. "There was an accident on the highway earlier this afternoon, a young girl, probably still in high school. I couldn't help but think of Quinn, and how far we've all come since then." A small smile, one of recollection, fluttered across Brittany's face, as she thought back to how different things had been in high school.

"I mean, did anyone honestly expect her and Puck to end up together? McKinley's own sex addict and Q? It's just crazy how after everything, they have each other, and Em, and they're content. And us? Oh _god_," she recalled with a groan.

"We kept things interesting in high school at least," the blonde whispered, grinning. "The closeted lesbian, trying desperately to woo her stunning best friend away from a poor handicapped teenaged boy. That's the kind of thing they make TV shows out of Santana." Her wife returned the smile with a slight chuckle, resting a hand upon Brittany's cheek, pulling her in for a soft, albeit lingering kiss.

"Why don't you head up to bed babe? You look exhausted. I'll finish up the dishes, and meet you in five." The blonde's second pregnancy was easier than the first, but she couldn't deny that everything took extra effort, and she honestly could pass out just about anywhere at this point, so she made her way slowly toward their bedroom, too tired to try and point out that Santana had worked a sixteen hour shift, and deserved their bed as much, if not more, than she did.

Rinsing off the last of the soapy dishes in the sink, the Latina began flipping off the lights in the kitchen, readying herself for the soft pillows and warm body awaiting her upstairs. She caught herself lingering in front of the last downstairs light, a lamp set on the end table in the hallway. Grinning to herself, she reached up to click off the source of the soft glow that illuminated the room, taking an extra moment to stare down at the items covering the worn wooden surface. Six photographs, in a single frame, sat in front of the lamp in question, the sixth place filled just over seven years ago. There, frozen in moments of pure bliss, stood two generations of Lopez family members, and a third generation of Lopez-Pierces, the beginning of a new line. Underneath their childhood photo, Santana smiled at a candid shot they hadn't known was taken on their wedding day. Wrapped in each other's arms on the dance floor, the photographer had managed to catch the tail end of a private performance of Songbird, that Santana had been whispering into her wife's ear. Brittany's eyes were so full of love, and the smile filling the Latina's features was incomparable.

Fingering the frame gently, her eyes fell to the only other object on the small table, a silver charm bracelet, with a thin pink ribbon threaded through its links, with a single charm attached, engraved with a name, and a date: _Sophia Faith Lopez-Pierce, December 24, 2015. _

"Your mommies love you baby girl. Always have, always will. I hope we've made you proud."


End file.
